Lost Sons
by stargazer86
Summary: SPNxDF: Following 5.10 and Turn Coat: Cas is attacked and loses Dean's amulet in the Nevernever. Gabriel tells the brothers about Knights who have three swords that can be used against angels. The wizard in the Chicago yellow pages could fix everything.
1. Chapter 1

Authors Note: I do not own the Dresden Files or Supernatural. Plot does contain information from the Supernatural Tie-in novel "Nevermore" by Keith Dicandido.

Spoilers for all aired episodes and published books as of December 2009.

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Chapter 1

Murphy's Law went into effect after Carthage.

There was no whiskey to drink in the wake of Ellen and Jo's attempts to put an angel under the table the evening before their deaths. Sam and Dean had put a sizable dent that same night into Bobby's stash of beer too. So the three hunters stood over the fireplace that evening watching black and white memories burn into ashes with nothing to take the edge off their pain.

In the days that followed though, Dean had acquired a bottle or three of Jack Daniels. He drank the entire contents of one in the process of pouring through stacks of tomes and passing out on the couch and woke up with a panicked cry and a cold sweat in the middle of the same night, startling Sam out of his own drunken stupor. The next morning the youngest Winchester found his brother in the panic room deciphering the ingredients of goofer dust instead at the kitchen table eating the breakfast Bobby had prepared.

That was the way things were for about three days until Castiel appeared on Bobby's front step, bleeding buckets into the thin layer of snow that coated the frozen earth. Sam had stepped outside at just the right moment to go to the store when the angel staggered and collapsed into the wooden deck of the porch.

"Oh god!" Sam scrambled, catching the slighter man under the arms. It did little to stop his knees from smacking into the hard wood, but it would save him from cracking his head open. "Cas? CAS!"

The angel reached up with a shaky hand and grabbed a hold of Sam's collar, managing with what was left of his willpower to look the younger Winchester in the face. Blood trickled from an ugly head wound just under the line of Jimmy Novak's hair.

"Ca…Cas…" The man repeated. "Is…is…busy…" He choked out through a mouthful of blood.

Sam's eyes widen in horror just as he twisted to look over his shoulder and yell into the house. "DEAN! BOBBY!"

Jimmy moaned as he teetered dangerously back. The younger brother took a hold of the man and heaved him back up to his feet, enough to carry him over the threshold and into the kitchen. Sam kicked the door shut and let the vessel sink limply to the floor with a grimace just as the thunder of footfalls reached the top of the stairs and Dean appeared from down the hallway, Colt in hand. Bobby came wheeling out of his library, shotgun pillowed in his lap.

"Christ on a cracker boy!" Bobby exclaimed as he started to pick up his gun and point it at the door beyond Sam's head. "Was he followed!?"

"I didn't see anyone!" Sam said hurriedly as he reached around Jimmy's body and began pulling at his tie and the buttons of his shirt. "Dean! Get me the first aid kit!"

"Cas alright?" The hunter asked, concerned noted in his voice but he wasn't about the dash off yet.

"It's not Cas!" Sam announced as he exposed Jimmy's chest, which was banded with layers of black and blue. The man under him grimaced and then cried out when the younger hunter prodded at his ribs, checking for breaks. "It's Jimmy!"

Dean was snapped out of his reverie, bolting back through the house for the first aid kit. He came running back, handing over the large white box and turning to the sink. He began washing his hands and pouring water into a nearby saucepan.

"How bad is it?" Bobby asked, gun trained on the door. He cast the two on the floor careful glances but was still expecting that at any moment the whole of the Heavenly Host would be arriving for tea and cookies.

Sam peeled back more of the shirt, exposing a bloody wound. He bit his lip to keep from hissing in sympathy for the poor man still wriggling under him. A whole sleeve had been torn off the trench coat and exposed a forearm that was oozing blood from a carefully made incision. It appeared to be the newer of the wounds he could see. Scarlet had managed to fall from the head wound, dripping into Jimmy's right eye, which was started to discolor with a bruise. The rest of the damage appeared to be minor cuts to his legs, a few bruised (thankfully not cracked) ribs, and a shallow stab wound that grazed Jimmy's neck on the left side.

"He'll live." Sam said firmly, which gave Dean pause enough to look back and then set to work on producing hot clean water. "Jimmy, what happened to Cas?"

Jimmy swallowed thickly; apparently he had taken a blow to the jaw and was bleeding from a wound on the inside of his cheek. "He…he's here…" He managed. "He's…he's trying to…heal…"

Dean dropped down across from Sam, holding a steaming pot of water in his clean hands. "He didn't get taken away?"

Jimmy shook his head, which made him wince since it pulled at his neck. "Cut off from Heaven…not enough power…trying to…keep us alive…gave control… still…here…" He ground out with heavy pants.

"Okay, okay." Dean raised his hands. He torn into the first aid kit and dumped its contents on the kitchen floor. Sam got to his feet to start washing his hands when Bobby shoved the shotgun at him.

"Take a walk." He ordered. "Make sure he wasn't followed."

Sam paused for a moment to contemplate his options, not really sure if it was in everyone's best interest to let Dean in god know what state of intoxication handle stitching up an angel and his conscious vessel when there came a gentle knock at the front door.

Dean snapped out his work in a flash, Colt now trained on the door while Sam took a stance and loaded a shell into the chamber.

"Put the guns down boys." A voice said through the wooden door. "I'm just covering the retreat."

The three hunters looked between each other when Jimmy groaned. "It's…it's Gab…riel…" He motioned with his only good hand towards the door.

Sam stepped over Jimmy and Dean, pressing the barrel of the shotgun against the wood before opening the door enough to peak out.

Standing right were Jimmy had been minutes before was Gabriel, formerly known as the Trickster. He appeared slightly flustered and disheveled, dressed in the same jacket and jeans they had last seen him in. The archangel stood with his feet apart and hands raised in a gesture of peace.

"I knocked." Gabriel said. "Could have blown down the door." He craned his neck to one side and peered pass Sam to the floor. "How you holding up Jimmy?"

Jimmy clenched his teeth. "Asshole." He hissed.

Gabriel looked back up at Sam. "I could just take off now that I know you two chuckleheads are looking out for him, but we've gotta talk."

"We're a little busy right now." Dean groused as he dropped the Colt onto the floor and went back to staunching blood. "Unless you plan on helping us with this—"

At once there was the presence to two women, a blonde and a brunette, dressed in the smallest of medical coats kneeling around them. The blonde swapped a dishcloth of hot water against Jimmy's head wound, flushing his bad eye of any blood while another took a pair of scissors and began to cut the layers of coats and shirt off Jimmy's mangled body. While the glamour was ridiculous to watch, they were expediting the process of patching the wounded vessel and angel back up.

It took them all by surprise for a moment, Bobby in particular. He managed to fix his jaw back into place though and motioned for Sam to step out of the door. Gabriel stepped in and peeled off his coat.

He turned to Bobby. "Got any guest bedrooms?" The archangel asked while he rolled his sleeves.

----

With Jimmy and Castiel stitched up, patched up, and drugged up, the hunters abandoned him in the master bedroom upstairs, formerly Bobby's old bedroom before being confined to his wheelchair. Sam and Dean returned downstairs to find Gabriel's two stunning nurses down dressed in French maid attire and cleaning the kitchen and making what appeared to be dinner.

The Winchesters came into the library to find Gabriel sat before an open fire, a tome in hand and lazily flipping pages with Bobby looking on from his desk. The two brothers paused before sight and contemplated the bizarre tableau before them for several minutes. Dean crossed his arms over his chest and set his jaw while Sam took up guard in the hallway between them and the stunning maids.

"What the hell was that?" Dean demanded.

"That?" Gabriel pointed to the kitchen. "Or that?" He pointed up to the roof.

"That." Dean pointed up.

The archangel sighed and closed the dusty tome sitting in his lap. "Heard about what happened in Carthage. Cas decided to step up his search and ended up running smack in Zach and his buddies having a powwow in Greenland. This got bloody."

"No shit." The older brother announced. "How'd you get dragged into this?"

"Cas was running, managed to lose them…he dropped in on me and asked for help. Said he couldn't risk going back to you without bringing the whole Host on your heads, so he asked me to cover his tracks." Gabriel explained, setting the tome down on a teetering stack and standing up to stretch. "I told him to conserve his power, let Jimmy take the wheel and I'd zap him here."

Dean pursed his lips in contemplation. "So Cas really is okay?"

"He's fine. Jimmy wasn't." Gabriel said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Cas couldn't shield him from the pain and Zach hurt the two of them pretty good. When I told Cas to save his power, he went to work on healing the internal injuries. He knew you could handle the rest."

"And Zach didn't follow you here?"

Gabriel scoffed. "No. Please, I'm for Team Winchester. You honestly think I'd lead that asswipe here? He might be my brother but I don't have to like him." He leaned around Dean into the kitchen. "How's it coming girls?"

"Almost done!" Two sweet voices chimed.

"Aren't they the best?" Gabriel asked, straightening. "They make a mean roast. If you want, I can loan them to you for Thanksgiving too. Isn't that in three days?"

Dean pinned a pointed look on the archangel, neither interested in his offer or the fact that dinner was doing a great job masking the smell of antibiotics and blood. "You said you wanted to talk. What about? We're sorta busy."

"Oh yeah. I can see that." Gabriel stepped back to gesture to the room, which was a clutter of books and empty bottles of liquor. "Doing a great job sitting on your asses being sorry for yourselves."

At this Bobby banged his fist on the old wooden desk. He hit it hard enough to make the piles of texts and papers shudder with impact. "You shut your god damn mouth."

"No." Gabriel shot back. "I won't. It's about time someone showed up and gave you all a kick in the pants." He turned and met Dean's hardening glare and Sam's somber expression. "I've got news. Good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?"

Sam took a step forward and said quietly when no one rushed in to answer, "We had nothing but bad. Might as well start there."

"Cas lost the amulet." Gabriel announced.

It took all of a fraction of a second for that to register in Dean's brain. He felt his jaw coming undone in an instant before hearing a strangled choking noise from Sam. He took a measured step back and looked around the room. Somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach it felt as if he had part of him torn off…that Alistair had sunk his hand to the knuckles into his chest and grabbed a hold of his still beating heart and squeezed.

Squeezed until it stopped.

"Where is it?!" Sam demanded, snapping Dean out of his thoughts. "Who took it?!"

Gabriel raised a hand, motioning for the now panicked Winchester to lower his voice. "The demons don't have it and neither do the angels." He explained. "Castiel was worried that if he was captured, they'd take it from him. So he ripped a hole in the veil and left it there." The archangel sighed a little. "I went back to get it after I sent him here. It was long gone. Something beyond the veil took it."

"He lost it?" Dean repeated.

Gabriel moved his hand to Dean, telling him to wait a moment. "Cas plans to get it back. First thing he plans to do once he's up."

"Which will take him how long?" The elder Winchester demanded, doing his best not to speak through his teeth.

Gabriel's lips thinned. "A day, maybe two. He's cut off the Host. Maintaining that body for two is already putting more strain on him than he can manage. In any normal situation, Jimmy Novak would have been blissfully unaware through the assault." He sighed a little. "When Cas gets on his feet, you're gonna need to get him into the habit of more human things. Show him what eat to maintain energy, sleep to restore him…basic first aid."

Dean raised his own hand for silence. "Alright, we get the point." He closed his eyes with a careful release of breath, letting some of the welling frustration in him go. It wasn't going to do him any good to storm upstairs and shake the wounded angel senseless. "What about your good news?"

The archangel nodded. "If I had known you had planned to use the Colt I would have told you before hand that it wouldn't have worked."

"Thank you." Bobby spat. "Thank you for that enlightening discovery. Too bad is a week too god damn late!"

"I'm sorry about what happened to the Harvelles." Gabriel raised his voice in defense. "I knew something was going down with one of the Horsemen, I just wasn't sure when and where! Been out of the loop for a while now, so cut a guy some slack. I'm building my burned bridges back as fast as I can, okay!" He pinned Bobby with a cold glare. "When I finally found out what the game plan was, I got to Carthage as quick as I could."

Sam swallowed thickly. "When?" He demanded.

The archangel sighed in dismay. "Just after the three of you left." He said somberly. He met Dean's calculating eyes and shook his head. "If I had been there sooner, I would have helped."

"Did you stop the Horseman?" Dean asked.

Gabriel scoffed. "And risk getting my ass kicked by big brother? No. Oh, and don't start thinking you can shoot one of those guys either. They fall under that list of things that pop gun can't kill."

"Is this the good news?" Bobby groused.

"No." Gabriel snapped. "The good news is that before I figured out what you chuckleheads were doing, I stumbled across some old texts about some swords. Real swords, not some metaphorical bullshit."

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine. But before you get into all the details, tell us straight up, just how useful are these swords supposed to be?" he demanded.

The archangel bit into his lower lip, contemplating his answer. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

"These are swords made for use against angels."


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Sorry the first part was a bit slow, kinda setting the ground work for this crossover to go smoothly. Time for a history lesson! And thanks for the reviews. As always, I do not own either series.

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Chapter 2

Gabriel turned from the shelves with several books loaded up into his arms. He dumped them onto a hastily cleared spot on Bobby's desk and blew a cloud of dust off their covers as he handed them out to each hunter present.

"They are called The Swords of the Cross." Gabriel explained. "Alternatively these swords are in the possession of a group of men known as the Knights of the Cross or Sword. Each sword contains a nail from the crucifixion in its hilt. They were made to battle the Blackened Denarius."

Bobby frowned. "Denarius? That's an old Roman coin." He stated.

"Yes." Gabriel confirmed as he looked through his stack. "The Denarians are actually thirty fallen angels bound to the thirty pieces of silver used to buy off Judas." He picked up one tome and opened it, flipping through pages with certainty until he came across one. "After the betrayal and the crucifixion, it was decided that the iron nails, touched by the blood of the Son would be a weapon against Fallen Angels."

He set the open book down and pointed to the illustration. It was a woodcarving of a sword set into a large stone. "This is one of them."

Dean leaned over the book before his lip curled in a smirk. "You're kidding right?" He looked up. "That's freaking _Excalibur_. That sword doesn't exist, Arthur and Camelot was a crude story about some guy name Uthur."

Sam's brow knitted together and he looked up at his brother with a confused expression. Dean caught it in the corner of his eye and suddenly appeared appalled. "What? I'm not allowed to know Arthurian lore?"

"No…it's just…I had no idea you paid that much attention in history class." Sam announced.

The elder Winchester's moment of glory passed and a glint of cold challenge flashed in his eyes. Gabriel planted his hand firmly against the older brother's chest. "You going to pay attention? I don't have all night."

Dean appeared pacified, but that didn't mean there wasn't some form of retaliation in Sam's foreseeable future. Bobby had by now taken the book though and was looking over the text that went with the woodcarving.

"_Amoracchius_ is the more well know of the three swords." Gabriel continued. "The other two are _Fidelacchius_ and _Esperacchius_."

"Swords of Love, Faith, and Hope." Sam translated out loud. "Each ones belongs to a Knight?"

The archangel nodded. "The Knights of the Cross are the sword bearers. They are men, sometimes women, who best embody the will of the swords they are destine to carry."

"Mortal men and women?" Dean interjected.

"Yes. Mortal. No angelic assistance or supervision required." Gabriel replied. "As long as you use the sword for its intended purpose and not in an act that defies the nature of the respective blade, these swords are the answer to your useless Colt."

The Winchesters looked up to each other, holding a private conversation without words between them while Bobby continued to look over the tome. He had scrawled a few notes and was now digested his data.

"Where are they?" Bobby asked, setting the book down and crossing his arms over his chest.

Gabriel waited until he had the full attention of the brothers. "Chicago."

It was Dean's turn to be confused along with everyone else. "_Chicago?_" He repeated. "What the hell…"

"The last known location of two of the swords is Chicago." Gabriel nodded. "I heard through the grape vine that the Knight of Faith died several years ago and the sword has yet to pass to another. The Knight of Love was badly wounded last winter and has since left the sword in the custody of the same man who has _Fidelacchius_."

"Two swords." Sam said, eyes widen in surprise. "No Knights? It's the end of the world and you have only one sword in play?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Hey, I don't call the shots. Last I knew, the guy holding on to the swords was supposed to find replacements. Not my fault he dropped the ball on that one."

"Who is this guy?" Dean demanded.

Gabriel smiled a little bit and reached back to the stack of books. After a moment he produced one of the many volumes Bobby kept of yellow pages from across different parts of the country. "You're going to love this." He said and opened the book up. He set it down with a firm thunk, letting motes of dust curl out from under it.

He jabbed at the page with a finger. "That's the guy." He announced.

Sam leaned forward, his brows touching in curiosity. His eyes widen a little in surprise and he started to speak, but nothing came out. He couldn't decide whether to be confused or surprised.

"Huh." The youngest Winchester grunted, leaning back now with his hands raised to his hips and his jaw working in thought. Bobby turned the book to himself and started to read.

"Harry Dresden, Wizard**, **Lost Items Found. Paranormal Investigations. Consulting. Advice. Reasonable Rates. No Love Potions, Endless Purses, Parties or Other Entertainment."

Dean reached out and snatched the yellow pages out of the older hunter's hands to read it himself. "You have got to be kidding me!" He declared, looking at it for himself. It wasn't long before his expression mirrored Sam's. He looked up over the edge of the book at the archangel smiling smugly at them.

"Told ya you were going to love this." He said.

----

"How the hell does a god damn _wizard_ get away with putting an ad in the yellow pages and we go this long without noticing it?" Dean turned from the work table where he was in the middle of filling canvas bags with fresh goofer dust. "I mean, what was the guy thinking? Does he know that there are people like us who go out of our way to kill guys like him?"

"Maybe he is legit." Sam offered from his seat on the cot, nursing a bottle of beer that was hanging from fingers between his knees. "We don't go into cities very often Dean, and the last time we were in Chicago…we barely got out with our lives."

Dean bit into his lip, thinking before returning to his work. He opened up another bag and started to pour the contents of another bowl into it. The panic room fell into silence, with only the sound of sifting powder and the turning of the overhead fan could be heard.

"Dean—" Sam began.

"I don't want to talk about it." The hunter said automatically.

Sam huffed in reply. He rolled his head back and smacked it against the salt coated iron walls and listened to the sound echo through the room. "What are we going to do about—"

"I don't know."

The hazel eyed hunter cast his brother a look, which did nothing since it was met with the barrier of the other man's broad shoulders and back. Dean finished bagging the dust and was now pulling the little device to pack shells across the table.

"Alright fine. You don't want to talk, you can listen." Sam sat up, careful not to spill the rest of his beer in the process as he planted his feet on the floor. "You haven't slept more than four hours in the last three days. You've shut yourself up down here, and it's plain to see that your back to having nightmares about Hell again…" His lips pulled tighter into frown. "Dean…"

Dean let go of the reloader, his hands now gripping the edges of the workbench until his knuckles started to turn white.

"You…you and Jo…"

"Shut up, Sam." The command was barely a whisper within the walls of the panic room.

Sam looked up at Dean's tight shoulders, hunkered down, and arms taunt with a vice like grip. He swallowed nervously and looked away with a quiet sigh.

They remained there in silence, listening to the sound of the fan turning in the vent overhead. There was a slight snuffing, were Dean managed to pull his hand away from the workbench to wipe at his face. Sam cast him a quick glance, but said nothing about it.

----

It was Friday morning when Harry woke to the sound of his phone ringing in the kitchen and Mouse whining worriedly from the edge of his bed. Harry crawled out from under the warm covers and into the chilly morning, answering the phone with a rough 'Hello'.

"Have you heard yet?" Thomas demanded.

Harry found the grogginess of sleep depart at the sound of his brother's voice. "Heard what?" He asked.

"Something happened. Something very bad happened, Harry."

A sense of panic washed through him. If Thomas was calling in a panic there were a million reasons for Harry himself to be concerned. There were few things that, where Thomas was concerned, ranked under his qualifications of the most horrible event happening on earth.

Harry thought for sure the White Court of Vampires had finally figured out Lara's ruse, or that Justine was dead…or Thomas had been caught killing someone with his Hunger. A million little things went through his head.

"Harry, I just heard a god damn nuclear bomb when off in Missouri somewhere."

Harry blinked in surprise for a moment. "The Korean's are finally invading?"

"No! Not that kind of bomb!" Thomas answered hotly. "I mean something…someone in the supernatural community just wiped a town clean off the map."

"What?" Harry asked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Lara got a phone call just a few minutes ago. Everyone in the house is awake. Justine rushed in telling me that one of the family's _connections_ just heard about—"

Harry looked up as a heavy thunder came from his dented steel door. "Hold on Thomas." He said and put the receiver down. The wizard stared at the door before reached out into the living room area and lighting his candles with a spell. As he neared the door, Harry reached down into the popcorn can and lifted a shotgun and his blasting rod out of it.

"Warden Dresden!" A rushed and out of breath English voice called. "Dresden! It's Steed! Open up!"

Harry reached for the door, opening it enough to look out. He wasn't stupid enough to release his wards.

"Steed?" Harry replied, blinking out into the gray morning light. It was barely even dawn yet.

"Warden Dresden," Steed cleared his throat. He reached up to his top hat and pulled it off. "Dresden, have you heard yet?"

Harry frowned at Steed for a moment, noting the look of terror that appeared to be in the man's eyes. "Did something really bad happen in Missouri?" He guessed.

The well-dressed Warden swallowed nervously with a curt nod. "Harry, this might be worse than Archangel."


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Just so you know, I couldn't fake this number. That is the entire population of Carthage Missouri as of 2000. As always, I do not own either series.

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Chapter 3

They were calling it a terrorist attack.

Harry Dresden stood grimly over the mass grave and couldn't help but agree with them. But it was a terrorist attack of the supernatural kind, not the human. The scale of this assault in the supernatural community was possibly the equivalent of 9-11.

Something terrible happened in Carthage, Missouri.

Ebenezer McCoy hobbled up and out of the excavation site, his hands covered in latex gloves and dirtied with snow-wet mud. He snuffed in the cold air that was casting lazy flakes through the air, coating everything from the hibernating trees to the frozen bodies of women and children in a thin layer of white.

"How bad is it?" Harry asked, swallowing thickly to squelch the bile rising in his throat. He had already lost his lunch today and had nothing in his stomach now to bring up. He knew it was a risk asking for the body count…but he had to know just on the scale of The Worst Horrible Things That Could Happen that Carthage was currently sitting on.

McCoy took a moment to catch his breath in the frigid air and closed his eyes somberly. "The authorities believe the entire population of the town is here." He cast his eyes across the field around them, where instead of women, children, and the elderly… some of the male population of the town lay on the frozen earth, covered with plastic to protect them from the elements.

Harry felt his heart still in his chest.

"That's…that's…" He began.

"Nearly 13,000 people are dead or missing." McCoy whispered under his breath.

Harry staggered back in horror. He managed to take several breaths before he spun around and darted for the tree line. He caught the trunk of a tree and dispelled whatever was left in his stomach until there was nothing.

A hand came to rest on his shoulders, soothing the pain that came from dry heaving when there was nothing left. Harry's eyes were beginning to water…both from pain and sorrow. How, what…could have done something so horrible as kill…

Kill thirteen thousand people.

"Harry…" A woman called gently, her voice thick with an Italian accent. "Harry, breathe."

The wizard staggered back, trying not to catch his long legs in his duster and gray cloak. He sagged to the ground with Luccio's assistance. The women gave him a sad look and then thrust a bottle of water into his hands. "Drink, you are going to make yourself sicker if you don't dehydrate yourself."

Harry looked up at her, his eyes stinging. "Thrit…"

"I know." She said, carding her hand through his hair and off his sweaty brow. "I know."

"Who…" The wizard wheezed, his throat raw and his mouth coated in thick grime. "Who would…"

Anastasia Luccio, captain of the wardens, shook her head. "I don't know who has the power to do this." She said. She sighed heavily, urging Harry to drink. "I don't think you should be here right now." Her voice took on a more commanding tone. "I want you to take some of the other younger wardens into the town and start a search. We need all the information we can find on what happened here." She reached around herself and produced a folder from a messenger bag. "We only have the rest of the day to collect our evidence and leave before the government steps in."

Harry nodded limply as he brought the water bottle to his lips. He got onto his feet and drank after he swished a mouthful through his teeth and spit it out. Luccio handed him the folder and nodded grimly.

"We'll find who did this." She said. "We just don't have much time to get all our evidence."

----

Harry stood in the middle of the empty street, flanked by young wardens from all corners of the earth. He was not familiar with many of them, save one, which was Carlos Ramirez. He would have been glad to see the young man again if it had not been for the situation they were all in now.

A score of Wardens descended on the town, finding it deserted of its populace. McCoy, the first of the Senior Counsel to arrive on the scene began to delegate tasks. A few tracking spells later and the whole of the investigation team…uncovered the mass grave in a field just outside of town.

A spell had been put in place to keep outsides at bay. The few authorities already on scene were convinced after the demonstration of locating the town's population that it was probably in their best interest to sit tight in their cars and wait until the sun went down that evening before calling in the big guns.

"We're going to spit up into groups of two." Harry explained, laying out the map on the hood of a beat up wood paneled wagon. Reminded him faintly of the one that McCoy drove, which was currently clear across town back were the grave was. "You are to keep an eye out for any indication of what could have done this. You all have cameras, do not disturb anything. Take samples only if you must, but be discrete. We don't want any evidence that we were here at all."

The wardens nodded. There was enough to break off into about six groups. These were the ones who hadn't had a chance to come across the grave site yet, having only just arrived at Luccio's command for just this purpose.

"We meet back here in one hour." Harry directed. "Go."

Ramirez sighed as the wardens broke off, each pair taking a different direction. "What do we get to do Harry?"

"Got any particular part of town you want to look at first?" Harry asked, watching as the warden shrugged. The two of them watched as a few of the search parties came across cars and began to look inside of them, even finding some open.

Ramirez looked at the car and reached for the door. It popped open with a rusty groan a kin to that of the Blue Beetle's mismatched doors. "Might as well start here while we are standing here." He said, leaning in to inspect the car.

He came back out with the contents of the glove compartment. "A one Ellen Harvelle of Nebraska." Ramirez frowned. "Car registered in Illinois though."

"Nebraska?" Harry grunted, reaching out for the registration. "Hells bells." He said with a dejected sigh. "There might be more people dead than we know about."

The young Warden looked grim as he turned his attention back to the wagon. He leaned down under the wheel and started to dig around while Harry began making a note on the laminated map.

"Um…um Harry…" Carlos pulled out of the car and stepped back. "Harry, you…you need to look at this."

"What is it?" Harry asked, coming around the hood of the car. He looked at the startled man before turning to the interior himself. He leaned in and frowned at it. "Just a car."

"Harry…" Carlos said. "The roof has a protection ward on it."

The wizard looked up, seeing now for the first time the fine black markings of a protection sigil on the ceiling.

"And there are weapons under the seats."

At this Harry peeked over his shoulder in surprise before leaning his tall frame over and finding for himself a stockpile of ammunition, along with a number of handy guns just within reach of the driver and the passenger.

Harry blinked very slowly and stepped back. He then reached for the rear door, opening it up and looking at the bench seat. On the floor was a couple of folders, papers tucked neatly inside. He handed them to Carlos before inspecting the seat one more time and finding it to be one of the ones that lifted up to reveal a storage compartment.

"Stars and stones!" The wizard whispered in awe.

Ramirez paused in turning pages of the folders in his hands, leaning around Harry to look in. The compartment was filled with a variety of weapons, bigger than the ones under the front seat. Store bought jugs of water sat inside with rosaries lying inside of them, knives in just about every metal and shape were fastened to the underside of the seat and canisters of salt, jars of what appeared to be blood, and wooden stakes in several types sat inside it.

A fair number of books were also neatly stacked into place.

Harry reached into the compartment and picked up one of the books.

"_De Exorcismis et Supplicationibus Quibusdam_." Harry read out loud. He paused after a moment and whistled. "This is hardcore exorcism stuff. Who on earth besides a priest and a few of us go about with an arsenal and books on the supernatural?"

Carlos shrugged. "To be honest, not a clue."

He turned back to the wagon and setting the book down along side a very battered copy of _Pseudomonarchia Deamonum_ and a tome of the _Ars Geotia_. He felt just a little jealous he didn't have a copy of that for himself. Harry fished out a camera and started to snap off pictures, including a copy of the car's registration and the symbols on the roof. He stepped back and surveyed the rest of the street. "This is certainly a clue."

----

It took all of twenty minutes before Wardens came running. Two from down the street, another from the other side of town. They descended on their two superiors, frantic with discoveries.

Harry found himself torn with following the leads that were coming at him.

A young African warden launched into him with a slew of Latin, the official language of the wizarding community. "We have found strange markings on the second floor of a building. It looks as if there was some kind of circle, it was made of fire." He produced a few marked swabs and vials of material. "The power coming from the circle was overwhelming, it was meant to keep something in."

The other spoke English, though was clipping with a Canadian accent. "Four miles that way," She pointed behind herself. "Looks like there was a fire fight, started in a parking lot and carried down another street. Found a blood trail leaning towards the ruins of what looked like a hardware store."

"Ruins?" Harry perked up. "What do you mean ruins?"

"Blown up. There is nothing left." She explained. "Some of it is still smoking, fires are burning in some of the buildings around it still."

Harry turned to Carlos, "Go with them and check out that circle." He ordered. He then motioned to the young woman. "Lead the way."

She had been correct. Some ways down the street there was a town parking lot, open to the general public between six in the morning til two am. It was there that the evidence of guns being fired appeared, empty rounds of shotgun canisters lay scattered across pavement.

Harry stooped down to pick one up, giving it a once over. There was a thin film that coated the shell…white instead of black. After scrubbing a finger through it, feeling the grain of the powder, Harry was almost certain it was salt.

"Shut gun shells full of salt." He frowned.

The young Warden shook her head, the tight pony tail swaying back and forth. "There is more." She said.

And there was.

The epicenter of the blast was indeed the ruins of a store, a no name place that probably stocked hardware and tools. The force of the blast itself had decimated the walls, glass lay melted in the street and fire smoked from nearby buildings.

"Warden Dresden, look at this." The lady warden's partner called. He too was a Canadian, though more French in his voice than her.

Harry came up to inspect the wall that the other man was standing beside. Once he was close enough to reach out and touch it, the confusion began to set in again. The brick walls of what was probably some apartment building was pocked with blast rubble…and pierced with blacken nails.

"Cold iron, sir." The warden explained. "Looks like there was a lot of salt in the blast as well. Hardware store probably had it for the winter…you can see some of it on the ground over there."

Harry turned back towards the blacken walls of the store and found his lips tightening into a thin line. "Warden," He looked back at the woman. "Where is the blood trail?"

She pointed a ways up, about three hundred feet from the blasting range of the bomb. Harry walked with her to the spot, where blood coated the post of a parking meter and part of the sidewalk. It lay in a icy smear on the road, covered enough with snow to turn a little pink.

"Start's here." She indicated. "Whatever happened here, who ever was attacked probably wasn't walking." They started to follow the spots on the ground. "Direction of travel and the size of the drops…I think something much faster and well off picked up and ran with whoever was here."

"I'm inclined to agree." Harry said coming up to the front of the decimated storefront. He crossed the threshold and stood within the ruins, through melted shelves and debris.

Harry came to stand about ten feet from where the foundations of the register's desk probably use to be.

There was not enough snow and rubble in the world to hide what he found there.

The young warden behind him little out a startled gasp, which wasn't helping the wizard keep the meager contents of his gut in check.

"Call in those cops from the grave site." Harry said somberly. "There isn't much here…but they might be able to identify what was left." He pulled back, taking his eyes away from the few remains in sight. There probably would be no way to recover any DNA from that. There was a point in which such blasts destroyed any hope of putting a name or a face to a body.

He was just on his way to a fast exit when his eyes swept over the rubble again. This time it was the way the snow was falling to the earth that caught his eye.

Or the fact that it wasn't falling.

Harry came forward, hunkering down to inspect the spot in which it appear that the flakes of snow and bits of rubble were suspended in the air…not very high off the floor but enough that it was certainly noticeable to anyone who looked carefully enough.

He reached out with one hand, his gloved left hand and touched the spot with a finger.

It had some give, but it felt solid and frozen.

"Warden Dresden?"

"I think something is lying here." Harry announced. "But it's…invisible."

"Do you think you can See it?" The young man asked.

Harry took a deep breath and contemplated his options. "To not disturb the scene? Maybe…" He said, rising up and closing his eyes. In his mind he was commanding himself that no matter what, don't look behind him towards the middle of the store. He already had enough nightmares of the living to want to avoid those with the dead. The wizard took a moment to focus his thoughts on a point towards the middle of his forehead, were the 3rd eye was and with an exhale opened it to the world beyond that of the simple human sight.

He fell on his ass with a startled cry.

"Warden!" The two flanking them cried. They rushed in and grabbed him, one reaching out and slapping their hand over his forehead. Harry tried quickly, his brain working it's way through the blinding flash that had just overwhelmed him to close his 3rd eye and kill his Sight completely.

"Are you okay?"

Harry sucked air as if he was drowning. Now able to use his regular sight, Harry found his own vision to be spotty, like he had stared into a bright light for too long and the image of it was burned into his eyes. The sheer thought of it was enough to send him back into the blinding world of overwhelming lights and shapes and forms…

The only thing he had managed to make out was the inky black shape that had been the form of whatever it was lying on the ground and invisible to normal sight. It was an animal, some kind of dog…with pieces of it ripped asunder and pierced with nails, salt, and god knows what else.

It was vile and vicious to look at…it had a head with dead eyes, though they were still red…and it reminded him of something or someone he had seen before. Felt something similar but maybe not seen. But at the same time, everything around Harry had been overwhelmed by the sheer energy that the entire town was covered in and the glimpse he had only lasted a fraction of a second.

"What the hell happened here?" Harry asked the spots in his vision.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: I picked up a lovely beta who had kindly gone over the first three chapters and corrected them! Thank you so much! Chapter 4 is betaed as well. As usual, I do not own any of the series. And hello all watches! Thank you to those who reviewed. I'll read over the next chapter and send if off to my beta after I get done my deadlines today.

* * *

Chapter 4

Bobby sighed as he slammed the phone back down on the receiver. He wheeled around to the rest of his kitchen and found Dean setting another duffel along side Sam's and a few others.

"I checked out your source from that Detective McBain in New York." The grisly hunter informed. "The cop Murphy you were told about in that little network is part of the Chicago PD's Special Investigations unit. Her name is Karrin."

"Special Investigations?" Dean said, checking himself for his usual collection of knives, holy water, keys, and lock picks. He stopped for a moment and stared at Bobby, hard. "Don't tell some someone in law enforcement finally decided they make up a police force for our crap."

"Looks like it." Bobby said as he wheeled up to the kitchen table. Castiel sat to his left, dressed in a cleaned suit and trench coat…but his face an ugly mass of cuts and bruises. He was picking at a bowl of honey nut cheerios and sipping from a glass of milk, neither of which made the wounded angel happy. Bobby had threatened once already that afternoon that if the rouge Host didn't eat something on behalf of his vessel, the wheelchair bound hunter was going to ram it down his throat.

Sam came stomping through the house, the last of their luggage packed and ready. He settled the duffel on top of the stack waiting by the door. "So we are good with our contact?"

"Not yet." Bobby said. "Murphy was out of her office. Apparently she had to drop in on a consultant." He picked at the rough finish of his kitchen table with a fingernail. "You boys seen the news yet?"

There was a long pause in which both brothers failed to answer. But it was really all that the older hunter needed to hear.

"They just released the news about Carthage." He explained. "The story's been breaking while you were packing."

"I'm surprised it took them that long to find out." Dean said quietly, reaching into Castiel's bowl and helping the angel eat the rest of his meal. Castiel looked up at him for a moment and then cast his eyes away. Guilt hung over him like a shroud and had been there ever since he woke up and made it clear that he was back in control of Jimmy's body. He drank the remainder of his milk and stood up stiffly.

Sam began to heave duffels off the floor. He passed some off to Dean and started for the door before looking back. "You okay with us taking off?" He said.

"Boy, I've had plenty of Thanksgivings without your sorry asses here." Bobby snapped. "Stop your fretting and get out of my house!"

The younger Winchester nodded slowly and proceeded outside, Dean and his wounded angel in tow. They descended the wooden ramp and walked out to the rumbling Impala, idling in the cold dooryard and puffing exhaust into the chilled air.

"Hey!" Bobby called from the door. The three men turned to look back.

"You call me when you get to Chicago and keep me posted." The hunter ordered. "I'll track down this Murphy and get her to meet you as soon as I can." He huffed a breath, letting it cloud in front of him as he scanned the salvage yard coated in a veil of white. He pinned his gaze on the Winchesters after a moment.

"I don't care what you idjits do as long as you don't get yourselves killed. And be back here for Christmas." Bobby finally ground out.

"Really?" Dean asked, his lip twitching with a smirk. "Aw Bobby, I'm sure you've had enough those by yourself you don't need us around."

"Don't make me repeat myself boy." Bobby said and wheeled back into the house to push the door shut. "I want your asses back here by Christmas, end of the world or no." And with a bang, the hunter abandoned them to the South Dakota winter.

Dean glanced at his brother in surprise before motioning for Castiel to stagger on towards the Impala and finish loading up.

----

"Thirteen thousand people are dead or missing?" Bob's teeth clacked together, his eye lights little points deep within his skull. "Um…Harry…"

The wizard lookup from his workbench, which was littered with processed pictures, a half dozen books, and several notebooks. He cast his gaze to a wooden shelf coated with the stubs of multicolored wax candles. Nestled among several well-used harlequin novels was a human skulls, eyes glowing with warm orange light like candle flame. "Do you know what did this Bob?" Harry asked?

The skull actually began to chatter in a way similar to fear. "I hear Antarctica is nice this time of year. You feel like relocating boss?"

"Bob." Harry ground out. "I don't have time for this. Do you know what would need a human sacrifice of over ten thousand women and children?"

"Harry." The skull stopped shaking. "Harry, you don't want to get into this. It's best we just quietly pack our bags and run for the hills. Take Molly with you. Or Murphy. Murphy would be good. You could repopulate the earth. Bring Justine along too."

Dresden shot up from his chair, his first hitting the table. "Bob! I asked you a question! Answer it!"

The skull actually managed to simulate swallowing in nervousness, something Harry hadn't time to figure out how the spirit managed to that pull off without a tongue or throat.

"Harry, something this big…it's bad. Whatever did this, who ever was crazy enough to do this…did it for a reason. Snuffing out a human life can be a powerful kick for any spell." Bob said quietly. "That…that many though…sounds like it was a summoning ritual. For something _big_."

The phone rang upstairs, bringing their conversation to a halt. Harry worked his jaw in thought before reached out for the skull on it's wax covered shelf and setting it on the table amid the evidence.

"You look this over. I'm going to see who wants to talk to me now." Harry ordered, weaving his way through the tight space towards the folding ladder leading back upstairs from the sub basement.

He snatched the wailing phone off the receiver. "Dresden."

"I didn't know if it was safe to contact you yet." The woman on the other end said. "I knew you had been taken by the Counsel, I only just heard from my sources in Chicago that you were alone."

Harry took a short breath, stilling the swell of emotions filling his chest. "Elaine."

"Harry, what is going on?" Elaine demanded.

"I'm not sure." He replied. "Are you calling about what happened in Carthage?"

There was a pause. "People are scared Harry. I'm hearing all sorts of things from the Paranet."

"It is all probably the same that I'm getting from the other end." Harry sighed, sweeping his kitchen for dirty dishes. He reached into the cupboard under the sink and began to fill Mouse and Mister's dishes. "Something went and wiped out a whole town. The place is just covered in magical energies. The Wardens are still trying to figure out what kind of magic is was. Bob thinks it's a summoning ritual."

"If those who died were the catalyst for the spell, it was black magic." Elaine declared.

"I agree." The wizard set the dishes out, just as Mister appeared from atop the bookshelf and Mouse ambled around the small apartment from were he slept against the front door. "There was other stuff."

"What other stuff?"

"Did we have anyone in the Paranet in or around Carthage?"

Elaine was silent for a moment. Harry heard the rustling of papers and the creaking of a chair. "The closest psychic in the area was a woman named Missouri in Lawrence, Kansas. She isn't a member of the Paranet, but she is spoken highly of by others who are."

Harry whistled. "Wow, you keep track of the non members too?"

"Just a few important ones." Elaine said, he could hear the smile that was creeping across her face. "But why do you want to know about there being anyone in Carthage?"

"We found a car, belonged to an Ellen Harvelle from Nebraska." He informed. "The whole thing was covered in protection wards, armed to the teeth with everything someone who deals regularly with the supernatural. The back seat had a storage compartment in it loaded up with books we'd own."

"Harvelle. Nebraska." More papers rustled and several file cabinets clicked open and banged shut. "I know I heard something about a Harvelle in Nebraska. Another one of those 'unofficial' things." Elaine sighed a little. "I'll look around some more but I don't think I'm going to fine anything right off."

Harry fished a pencil out of a mason jar by the phone and turned up the back of a used envelope. "Could I get that psychic's name from Lawrence?"

"Sure." She recited off a number and address. After a moment Elaine piped up. "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

Elaine stalled for a few more moments. "Be careful." She finally said and hung up.

----

The white elephant wearing the trench coat in the Impala had finally gotten too big to ignore as they tore across Iowa. Dean flicked his eyes up to the rearview, finding Castiel's borrowed blue eyes staring back at him for a fraction of a second before taking interest in back of driver's seat again.

"Cas."

The angel swallowed and looked back up. "Yes, Dean?"

Dean didn't want to bring this up, not while Castiel still looked like he got in a brawl with Mike Tyson and lost. The bruises were fading faster than usual, but they still painted Jimmy Novak's unshaven jaw in greenish yellow blossoms. The open wounds were scabbed over and knitting together nicely, probably saving the vessel from any future scaring. He still had a light bandage tapped to his neck, hiding the worst of the sword wound that could have ended both their lives it had been three more inches to the right.

Dean wanted to ask. He wanted to know how the angel could up and loose his amulet…the only lead they had in finding…_for Christ's sake_…God. _Not to mention_, Dean thought, _my most treasured possession from Sam_. He glanced at Sam and found his brother keeping a fair distance from the conversation by staring out the window. It was as close as the younger Winchester could escape the confines of the boat that was the Impala.

Sam finally noticed Dean's glance and frowned at him. The expression clearly read '_You started this one, I'm just here for the ride._'.

"Are you alright?" Dean asked, looking up into the mirror again.

"I am recovering." The angel replied.

Dean nodded slowly, casting his eyes back to the road. "What's going on with you, Cas?" He asked. "You lit out of Bobby's the second we got back from…Carthage, and you show back up two days later a freaking mess. And oh," He raised his hand. "With Jimmy at the wheel." The hunter looked back into his mirror, watching Castiel as the angel listened and then cast his eyes into the footwell.

There was a long and drawn out silence, which was enough for Sam to finally start paying more attention to the conversation. He turned in his seat and stretched an arm over the back to see both his brother and the angel better.

"I have lost a great deal more of my powers than I thought." Castiel said at last, defeat lingering in his voice. "I…I cannot exorcise demons and…my ability to heal my vessel is now beginning to diminish.

"Is Jimmy alright now?" Sam asked.

Castiel nodded once. "I have healed his internal injuries, but the effort to do that has depleted my reserves. Zachariah was insistent that the garrison came at me with 'everything they had'." The angel licked his chapped lips. "Jimmy is currently suspended in dreams, guarded from the pain of recovery. I had no desire to make him aware of the assault…but it seems that my ability to shield him from such things are also starting to wane."

"If this keeps up…are you going to be able to hang on to Jimmy's body?"

Castiel looked up, his expression grim. "I am not sure." He replied. "I have no idea how much longer it will be before being severed from the Host will begin to effect that or my ability to fly."

The bothers shared a concerned look.

"Dean, I am sorry I lost your amulet." The angel said after they fell into a long silence. "I have every intention of retrieving it once I am fit for such action."

"Not without me, you're not." Dean said, his hands tightening on the wheel.

Castiel's head tilted slightly in confusion. "Dean, the other side of the veil is not a place for mortals. There are dangers there that you are not prepared to face."

"I was reading about that." Sam cut in, reaching for his messenger bag at his feet. "Before Gabriel took off he gave us some information about what is on the other side. It's called the Nevernever." He pulled out a slim book, edges ragged and leather spine peeling. "I also found a few things in Dad's journal about running into some fae back in '96. There was some stuff about it there too."

"The Nevernever is a place for no mortal. Not even demons dare to tread there and the Host is not welcomed by the powerful courts of the Winter and Summer Sidhe."

Dean glanced up, incredulous. "You guys are afraid of a couple of fairies?" He asked. He realized a moment later what he had said and a mortified look crossed his face. "Are you telling me that the thing that made off with my necklace as a god damn _pixie_?!"

"Or trolls..." Sam said, flipping through his book.

Dean glared at him. "You are not helping Sam!"

The angel shook his head. "It was an agreement. Uriel spoke of it once. The Unseelie Accords. Our part of the treaty was to never interfere in the activities of the Sidhe courts."

"Um…" Sam looked up expectantly. "Didn't you rip a hole in the veil and throw Dean's amulet in it? If your not welcomed there, how do you plan on getting it back?"

"I…have not have time to consider it." The angel said. "I admit it was a poor decision, but I had little time to hide the amulet from Zachariah and I was certain I was going to be captured or killed at the time. I could not risk coming to you."

Dean sighed. "How about we just put up a post office box somewhere and the next time this happens you just drop it off there instead."

"Would this be wise?" Castiel asked.

"Better than letting it get taken by Tinkerbell." The hunter muttered.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Karrin Murphy blinked owlishly at Dresden from across the table.

"You. Where. _In_. Carthage?" She said, setting her fork and knife down with her half eaten steak dinner. Harry thought of it as a waste of perfectly good steak and wished they could have this conversation after he had consumed several more beers.

Harry began to swallow what he was already eating when he became rather aware of the number of people milling around Mac's pub that were now suspiciously quiet and glancing in their general direction. It was a rather large turn out for Tuesday evening and the wizard wondered if the rumblings in the mortal world (a terrorist attack with no one stepping up to claim it for themselves…or the new one now…a mass suicide) and the supernatural world about Carthage had something to do with it.

"Karrin, can you keep your voice down?" Harry pleaded.

Murphy stared at him. "Dresden! You just told me you spent your weekend in _Carthage_!" She disregarded his request for discretion. Now everyone in the pub was listening to their conversation. "Why where you there?"

Harry sighed in dismay and tightened his drip on his steak knife. He turned his head and mustered up his best 'Scary Warden' look . . .which was probably an attempt to glare like the late Donald Morgan. As his gaze swept the room, the patrons of McAnally's turned away from their conversation and quickly went back to minding their own business.

"Yes. I was in Carthage. Yes. It is related to magic. Is this bad? According to Bob he wants me to whisk you and Molly into the hills and prepare to repopulate the Earth." The wizard replied.

It took Murphy a moment to process the rapid fire response before swiftly kicking him in the shin from under the table. While Dresden grimaced, the officer shook her head. "You could have said something sooner!"

"I really don't want to talk about it." Harry hissed through his teeth. "I have been elbow deep in evidence and research since I came back. You think I want to sit here over the best hot dinner I've had in weeks and talk about the frozen dead bodies of women and children?" He looked down at his plate grimly and pushed aside the perfectly good cut of meat with a sour frown.

That was apparently enough of a cue for Mac to arrive and put fresh beer on the table. Harry nodded at him in thanks and took a long draw from his. Murphy picked at the label as she waited for him to come around from his sudden change in mood.

"I'm sorry." She said.

"Bob's still working out the details but he is certain that something strolled into the town and used all of its population for a summoning ritual. I left him looking through a few grimores, but he is sure there is nothing in them can touch this." Harry began. "Elaine is getting all sorts of information from the Paranet…and checking her records for some possible psychic being in the area."

Murphy frowned. "Got a name?"

"From the registration papers of a wagon loaded up to fight a supernatural World War III." Harry reached into his duster and held out a piece of paper. "Thought you might be able to check the plates with the state police and get me an idea who this woman is."

The sergeant nodded slowly and took the paper. "What else was there?"

"Besides the bodies?" Harry said dryly. "I got what looks like some sort of circle made from fire…and a blown up warehouse with two bodies and the corpses of some Hellhounds."

Murphy's eyes flicked up from the paper. "Not Jar—"

"Not Kincaid." Harry interrupted her. "This was the house pet version of him. Distant cousin. Looks like whoever blew themselves up got mauled by one of these things. We're not sure yet if it might be connected to the possible practitioner who preformed the ritual or one of the locals trying to escape."

She let out a slow breath and nodded. "I'll take a look then." After a few moments the officer pushed her neglected beer across the table to sit next to the now empty one Harry was holding.

* * *

"Harvelle is a _h__unter_." Elaine voice was laced with a sort of contempt. "I called around to some of the other Paranet members in the area and those that didn't hang up on me told me the whole family's in the business."

Harry frowned, bringing his notes closer to him. "What is a hunter?" He shouldered the phone and picked up a pencil.

"The mortal equivalent of a Warden. Regular folk who found out that the supernatural world is real and decided to do something about it. Only their idea of dealing with it is to kill everything that isn't human." It was definitely contempt in Elaine's voice now.

"So Ellen's one of them?"

"She ran a bar called _Harvelle's Roadhouse _in Nebraska that burned down almost four years ago. It was a haunt for hunters all over the country. Husband was a hunter and there was something about a daughter. I started hearing about these hunters when we started the Paranet. We make it a point to warn others to avoid regions of the States that have high concentrations of them."

Harry glanced down at his scrawl. "Guess one of these hunters found something interesting in Carthage. Doesn't look like they made it out alive." He found himself writing down next to Ellen's name '_Hardware Store victim?'_ and pushing his notebook aside. "What else you know?"

"Starting back about the time this bar in Nebraska burned down, there was some sort of purge in the hunting community. A couple of them died in the bar fire. The rest have been picked off by the dozens in the years following. The last big purge was about…a little over a year ago…" Papers rustled in the background. "Late September 2008. Around the same time a few very angry spirits mauled a number of our psychics. Nobody knew what set them off but it lasted about two or three days."

Harry nodded slowly. "You think they are connected?"

"I couldn't care less about what happens to hunters." Elaine said and hung up.

* * *

Sam heard the phone vibrating across the top of the nightstand. He groaned, loudly, hoping that someone else beside him would get it. As it kept vibrating, making that plastic jarring against compressed wood noise, the younger brother growled into his pillow.

"Dean…"

"Not my phone, bitch." Dean mumbled distantly from across the room. Sam huffed as he finally pushed himself up and looked. It was indeed his phone causing the distress. He thought for sure it was Dean's, since the vibration had caused the cell to navigate itself towards Dean's side of the nightstand dividing the two beds.

He started to reach for it when a hand intercepted. Sam flicked his hair back from his face to see Castiel holding the phone open. The buzzing had stopped but now the angel stared at the device, utterly perplexed.

"Sam, I believe your phone is defective." The angel concluded.

"It was the alarm Cas." Dean grumbled. He rolled over and blinked groggily up at the trench coat clad seraphim. "Sam set the alarm…because he thinks we need to be up and moving at six am." The hunter reached out and took the phone from Castiel and after a moment of fidgeting with it, flicked it across the room at his brother.

Sam shielded his face from the oncoming projectile while Castiel frowned at the information.

"These devices can also be used as a means to wake someone?"

"Yeah." Sam replied sitting up and taking his phone from where it landed in the folds of the comforter. Dean had decidedly flopped back into bed and had his back at the two of them while they talked. "Can take pictures, keep a calendar with dates, play music…" Sam's brow knitted together as he tried to use his phone.

"Dean!" He called in frustration.

"Mmm."

"You locked my keypad!" Sam snapped.

"Want some cheese with that whine?" Dean mumbled. "Fix it yourself geek-boy."

Sam scowled at his brother. "What are you? Ten?"

"I do believe Dean is thirty." Castiel corrected, stepping back between the two beds to sit on the rollaway that had been brought into the room for him. Both brothers were certain that the angel hadn't use the bed at all and remained up the entire night. While Sam glared at the seraphim, he took stock of his current condition. So far all that was left of his injuries as the gauze taped to the side of his neck and the distinct shape through the white dress shirt of the tape and bandages crisscrossing Jimmy's chest and waist. Castiel still moved with a certain stiffness that came with someone blessed with cracked ribs.

Sam threw his phone back at Dean, this time actually swinging to cause injury. The phone collided with Dean's exposed shoulder and hit with a satisfying smack of plastic against flesh. The older hunter hissed at him in return.

"Fix my phone, jerk." Sam groused as he climbed out of bed and started to rifle through his bags for clean clothes "Just for that, I'm going to the meeting with Lt. Murphy and you can sit in a cold car and stake out the wizard's office."

Dean shot up. "Hey!"

"I'll try to leave you some hot water." Sam announced and slammed the bathroom door shut.

Castiel regarded the door before turning to look at Dean. "I do not believe he appreciated your prank."

Dean glowered at him, finding the phone and pressing several buttons. "It wasn't like I made the password that hard." He muttered, finishing his work and slamming it down on the nightstand.

* * *

"It wasn't that hard." Dean muttered, watching his breath fog in front of him. He sighed and finally reached for the thermos, unscrewing the cap and pouring steaming soup into the cup. As an afterthought, he turned and offered the rest to the man sitting next to him. Castiel raised his hand in a polite decline.

"You need it for yourself." He said after a moment.

Dean shoved it at him again. "Gabriel said you were going to need to start doing more human things now. You can't just keep mojoing Jimmy's needs away from him." He declared. "So suck it up and feed the poor bastard."

Castiel looked at the thermos again and finally accepted it. Dean watched with earnest as the angel contemplated the opening, billowing a pleasant steam into the interior of the chilly Impala, before bringing it to his lips and sipping at it experimentally.

"Well?" Dean asked, finally having some himself.

Castiel frowned at it. "This is a curious drink. It is thick and…a little acidic." His eyes narrowed at the contents and then at Dean's cup. "It is also red. What is it?"

"Tomato soup." Dean said with a smirk. He reached around and plucked a package out of a drug store bag from the backseat. "Here." He handed the angel a package of saltine crackers. "Best substitute to grilled cheese. Eat these and wash them down." He instructed and turned his attention back to the street.

They were parked on the edge of an intersection, kiddy corner from the office building that according to the ad was the office of Wizard Harry Dresden. Castiel had done him the service of sweeping the building, locating the office on the corner of the fourth floor overlooking the intersection. The angel reported back that the wizard was currently in his office and working.

Castiel munched on the crackers, noisily at first. "How do you…grill cheese?" He asked, mouth full of saltines. "Would it not melt?"

Dean managed to suppress his amusement into a few short puffs of air through his nose. "It's a sandwich Cas. You butter some bread and put the cheese in the middle. As you toast the bread, the cheese melts."

"Interesting." The angel said, taking a long pull from the thermos. "Would you like me to check on Sam?"

"Sam's fine." Dean said quietly, focusing his attention on the building in front of them. "If there is anyone who can handle talking to a cop, it's Sam." He sighed and did his best to hide his nervousness by continuing to eat lunch.

They remained in silence, chilled, and finishing their lunch until Castiel finally broke out with a confession.

"I never found pleasure in surveillance." He said. "It is very tedious work."

"Yes it is." Dean admitted, letting the steam from the soup warm his cold cheeks and nose.

* * *

Between Bobby and Detective McBain's efforts, they had managed to get a meeting with Sergeant Karrin Murphy. Sam had decided to put on a good front, dressing up in his best suit, and offering to meet Murphy in any restaurant of her choosing. He took the public bus out to the address he had been given.

Turns out, Murphy wanted to meet in a pub.

Sam found McAnally's with little difficulty, walking briskly through the cold morning across a fairly bare parking lot. Most of the cars sitting there were old and rather well used, he noted. The only car in the whole lot was a fairly pristine Saturn that was parked in one of the spaces closest to the entrance of the pub.

The hunter took one last deep breath of cold air, hoping that this meeting with the local law enforcement was going to go off better than their last attempts to extend the olive branch. He stepped into the pub, feeling a wall of hot air, smelling sweetly of the local fare and the smoke of a well tended to fire, blow past him as he entered and closed the door.

Sam started to turn, taking in the layout of the pub. Per their father's teachings, he always made himself aware of their surroundings. How many exits were there? Where are they? Where would an enemy most likely be? How many people are in the room and just how much of the room can be turned into a fortification should you become trapped there?

That was when Sam realized in his mental visualization of the pub…that this place was not your standard establishment for good food and beer.

There were 13 pillars, each carved with intricate designs. That was the first thing that stood out to him, because all it took was one glance at the carvings to realize they significant to warding magic. There were also 13 tables scattered about, 13 windows, and 13 stools at the bar itself. Ceiling fans spun around lazily and a fire crackled in a harth, warming the room.

This place was designed to keep magic at bay.

Sam turned his attention to the bar and found the barkeep eying him curiously while washing some glasses. A plack stood out distinctly that read in engraved letters "Accorded Neutral Ground". It took a second for him to make out the rest of the fine print, but apparently this place was neutral ground under the laws of the Unseelie Accords that Castiel had mentioned.

The hunter couldn't help but gawk.

"Thought it be appropriate to meet on some level ground." A woman's voice spoke up above the casual din of the pub. Sam tore his eyes away from the room and found that the speaker was a woman sitting the closest to him at the bar. She had shoulder-length blond hair, a cute nose, and blue eyes. Her outfit was both professional and yet casual. The only quirk that the hunter could make out was the Cubs jersey jacket hanging off the back of her seat.

Sam collected himself. "Sergeant Murphy?" He asked.

The woman smiled and slipped out of her seat. "Murphy." She extended a hand to him. Sam resisted and failed at trying not to smile at the woman's short stature. He easily stood a foot and half above her.

"Sam Winchester." Sam offered.

Out of the corner of his eye, the bald and overwhelming presence of the barkeep became incredibly still. The level of noise in the pub also drifted into an eerie silence.

The sound of Sam swallowing was probably the loudest sound in the whole room.

"Let's have a seat." Murphy said, more cheery than anyone had probably expected. She picked up her coat and her glass from the bar and led the way to one of the tables on into the middle of the room. They took a seat and after a moment of getting settled, the barkeep appeared and set down a similar glass in front of the hunter and a pitch of water between the two of them. A bowl of peanuts and salty popcorn followed in its wake.

Sam eyed the water set before him, unsure if it was wise to be consuming anything. He was a hunter, having just walked into a local supernatural haunt.

"Mac's not going to poison you." Murphy said, pouring more water into her half drank glass and taking a sip. "He keeps a shotgun under the bar though."

Sam chuckled nervously and then poured himself a glass as well.

"So." Murphy sat back and cast a calculated over Sam. "I have to admit, you clean up well for a guy McBain described as being scruffy looking."

Sam smiled. "Well, I didn't want to give you any bad impressions. Our first meeting with McBain wasn't exactly ideal."

"So I've been told." The officer said. "I'm impressed that you actually decided to contact someone in the authorities before running half cocked through my city. Don't you…have a brother?" Murphy asked, her eyes narrowing slightly in speculation.

"He's busy right now." Sam replied. "Our car was acting up when we came into the city last night, he went to go get it check out."

Murphy stared at him hard. "Lying through your teeth doesn't make us friends Sam." She said, picking up her glass and taking a sip.

_Crap._ Sam thought, finding the wood grain of the table very interesting. He sighed and thinned his lips.

"What brings you to Chicago, Mr. Winchester?" Murphy decided to get to the point, though her expression was starting to look a little more business and less friendly. "I'm not going to lie and say I'm not aware that there may or may not have been hunters in the city before but I have to say…this is the first one has ever come right out and told me. And while I appreciate being on notice, I am not about to let you go running through my city raising all sorts of hell or a body count."

"No, Ma'am." Sam nodded. "We're not looking to cause any trouble."

"Good." Murphy nodded. "So lets hear it."

Sam reached into his messenger bag and pulled out the neatly folded yellow page from the phonebook. "My brother and I are looking for this man." He laid the document on the table and pointed to Dresden's ad.

He watched her carefully. Sure enough, as well as Murphy tried to hide it, the way her lips thinned as she looked at the ad was all Sam needed to see. Murphy knew who Dresden was, even if she tried to pretend not to.

Murphy looked up at Sam. "Why?"

Sam frowned slightly. "I…I would rather not say." He said. "Our business with the wizard is our own and I'm afraid we can't afford the risk of others knowing why." _Because the last thing we need is for anyone to know we have come for these swords. _Sam added in his mind.

"I don't like the sounds of that." Sergeant Murphy said.

Sam couldn't offer her anything better. "I'm sorry. If I could tell you why we want to see him, I would…but I think it is best for everyone if we maintained a level of secrecy."

Murphy sat back in her chair again and crossed her arms over her chest. She stared down at the ad for a minute and then focused her attention on Sam. The officer then turned to her coat and produced a similar folded white piece of paper and set it down on top of the ad.

"I hope you don't mind me changing the topic…but I just had a thought." Murphy stated. "I only learned a great deal of hunters in my phone call with McBain this morning and she told me a lot about what you and your brother do. Your father too." She smoothed out the document. "I've got something here that might concern you."

Sam sat forward and looked at the offered document. It was a copy of a vehicle registration and a print out of a driver's license.

Ellen's kind face stared back at him from her license.

"You heard about Carthage, yes?" Murphy asked. "A couple of…investigators found a car on site with a great deal of occult weapons and materials inside of it."

Sam felt as if something had kicked him in the gut. He couldn't bring himself to breath as Murphy flipped the page of the document, which was a list of the contents of Ellen's car with several symbols drawn in the margins.

"A lot of people are dead down there. And this woman was in the middle of it." Murphy said. "There are people trying to figure out what happened there and I want to know if she was one of yours. If you know anything about Carthage and you start being honest with me, I might reconsider running you and your brother out of my city."

Sam couldn't think. He didn't realize he had picked the first page of the report and was holding it, looking at Ellen's picture. It was the only one he had seen after Bobby had burned the photograph taken the night before they had all gone to Carthage to kill the Devil. All the emotions he had been trying to hold back, because of Dean's stupid repression and his own guilt, brought every thought in his mind to a screeching halt.

He could still feel the warmth of the fire. He could still hear deafening boom of the explosion in his ears, making them ring. If he had been standing, Sam was sure he could probably feel the phantom sensation of the earth quaking as he had watched Ellen and Jo blow themselves to kingdom come.

Murphy reached out and snatched the file out of his hand. "Tell your brother to get his _car fixed _and get out of my city." She ordered, stuffing the documents into her coat. As an afterthought, she flicked a white business card onto the table, landing it smack in the middle of the yellow page ad. "Should you change you mind, that is the number I can be reached at. But if I so much as lay eyes on you again before that and I will arrest you."


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Sorry for the late chapters. I have been writing furiously through chapters 7-15. Here is the long awaited chapter 6, I'm sending others to the beta for her review this week.

Thank you for sticking with me this far!And thank for you for reading and reviewing.

* * *

Chapter 6

Harry sighed as the phone interrupted his train of thought. He was in the middle of reading a report from Ramirez, who had collected the data from strange ritual circle they had found several blocks down the street in the other direction from Harvelle's wagon. So far the report had concluded the circle was made from some type of rare oil, found only in the Middle East.

He picked up the phone after rubbing at his eyes.

"Dres—"

"Harry," Murphy said quickly. "You need to get out of your office right now."

Harry frowned. "Why?" He asked.

"A hunter came to town and he is looking for you." She informed.

The wizard felt a moment of panic shoot through his chest. "A hunter? Murph, you know about those too?"

Murphy huffed in frustration. "Dresden, I don't have time for this. _You _don't have time for this. You need to take everything you have about the Carthage case and get out of your office right now." She ordered. "He has a brother, Harry. I don't know where he is."

"Are they here about Carthage?"

"Harry!" Murphy pressed.

Dresden rose to his feet, snatching up stacks of pictures and documents. "Alright! Alright!" He crammed them into a file folder. "Where do you want me to go?"

"Come to the station." She instructed. "Don't go home."

The wizard was about to reply when he heard the sound of a cell phone chiming down the hallway. It was an odd noise given that it was the day before Thanksgiving and most of the other offices on his floor were closed for the holidays.

Murphy's voice came to him, concerned. "Harry?"

"I'll see you at the station, Karrin." Harry pulled the receiver away and set it down as quietly at he could into the cradle. He picked up his duster, cramming the file snuggly inside before taking out his blasting rod and handgun before approaching the door. He shoved the pistol into the waistband of his jeans and took hold of the doorknob, pressing an ear against the door jam.

There was someone in the hall, talking on a cell phone.

"Sam, I'm really busy right now." A male voice hissed.

Pause.

"I'm in the office building. Why? Because I'm freezing my perky nipples off in the car! I needed to warm up." The voice paused again.

"What? What do you mean she has Ellen's registration?"

_He knows the Harvelle woman. _Harry thought, his eyes widening. He choose that moment to open the door and step out of his office, rod held just inside the door and yet still ready to blow away a threat.

Down the hall, next to the broken elevator and the stairs stood a man in his thirties, cell phone pressed against his ear. He was dressed in jeans and a brown leather jacket, with well-worn work boots caked in snow and leaving puddles on floor. His hair was short and light brown.

Harry's appearance in the hall made the man freeze. Their eyes met and a look of surprise flashed across the man's face.

"Son of a bitch!" He hissed, tearing the phone away from his ear and bolting for the stairs.

Harry rushed after him, long limbs having the advantage over the shorter ones this intruder possessed. He flung himself down whole sections of stairs, glancing over the edge to see the hand and elbow of the fleeing hunter.

"Cas!" The man's voice said quickly. "2nd floor landing in the stair well, I'm being followed!"

Harry faltered in his stride, coming more slowly and cautiously as before. The furious pounding of the man's boots came to a stop directly below him. The two remained still for a moment, listening to each other's heavy breathing when the air around them seemed to part and there was the flutter of wings.

Harry leaped down a flight, standing on the landing across and just above from the hunter.

There was a swirl of motion and the man vanished in a flurry of black and tan. In the blink of an eye the hunter was gone with the sound of wing beats faded in the air…leaving Harry standing alone in the stairwell.

* * *

Castiel deposited Dean and the Impala about a block away from where Sam had gone to his meeting. The well-dressed Winchester was walking briskly towards them, braving the cold Chicago air and the lazy flakes of snow without his winter coat over his blazer.

Dean was still catching his breath when Sam opened the passenger side door and climb inside. The angel sat in the backseat, looking between the two brothers.

"I take it we've been made?" Sam huffed.

"That Murphy woman knows about Ellen's car?" Dean asked quickly, his voice strained.

The two brothers stared at one another for a long moment before casting their eyes out upon the snow misted street. That conversation was done.

"It appears we are ill prepared for the organization of the supernatural community in Chicago and the police." Castiel said to the silence. "The scale of the devastation unleashed in Carthage would not have gone unnoticed by the general public. It would be only logical to assume that others within supernatural circles would be aware of it by now themselves."

Sam nodded slowly in agreement. "I think the wizard knows about it."

"Oh…he does." Dean answered. "He got a phone call. Someone was telling him to leave his office. He said something about Carthage."

"It must have been Murphy." The younger brother sighed in frustration. "I started to ask her about the wizard and she started in on me about Carthage. She wasn't giving him up to us and she wanted to know if…" He found himself looking down at his hands resting in his lap. "…if there had been hunters in the city when the summoning ritual took place."

Dean's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.

Castiel leaned forward between the seats. "If there are police willing to protect this wizard, then our attempts to locate him now will become much more difficult."

"He isn't going home. Not without an escort." Sam agreed. "And if he's got the police on his side, who knows how many other people in this city he could call on for help." He pointed to a parking lot just out of sight due to the snow. "There is a pub down there…apparently people in the 'know' go there for a drink or two. A sign behind the var says that it is 'Accorded Neutral Ground' based on the Unseelie Accords."

"Do you believe Harry Dresden is a patron?" Castiel asked.

Sam nodded slowly. "If its got regular cops hanging out there that know him, I'm sure he probably comes around once and while. But a fat chance that's going to happen while we're in town. The people already there all but bolted out the door when Murphy said my name and the barkeep might just shoot either of us if we come back." He frowned and shrugged. "Oh, and Murphy's threatened to arrest us if she catches us in town."

"So they know about hunters." Dean mused for a moment, hardly concerned about the threat of police. He then sat back and looked over his shoulder at Castiel.

Castiel stared at him.

"Dean, what you plan to suggest is rife with complications." The angel said.

"We tried doing it the right way. We got no other options." Dean said. "He knows we've been to his bar and to his office. Maybe what we're looking for is at his house."

Castiel's eyes hardened.

"We've broken into places for less." Dean continued to defend his position. "We need these swords and at this point, I'm not about to sit on my hands and wait any more. Should have just stolen them in the first place."

Sam watched as his brother initiated the staring contest that was common place between both the angel and the hunter. They had their own wavelength that did not require the effort to speak. He wondered if that had been a side effect of Castiel's involvement in resurrecting his brother from Hell. If the branding Dean wore on his shoulder was much more than just a reminder that he had been dead and now owed his new life to the forces of Heaven.

For the first time in Sam's presence, it was Castiel who looked away first. The angel pulled back and took his seat again, admitting his defeat.

Dean looked at Sam. The other hunter shrugged. "Let's give it a shot."

"'Bout time." Dean muttered, turning up the heat in the Impala and taking off back to their motel.

* * *

Murphy was waiting for Harry in the observation room of interrogation when he arrived at Special Investigations. She was leaning against a wall, arms folded across her chest and chewing on a nail when he was directed in and the door was shut behind him.

"I was about to send a black and white to your office," she said after a moment.

Harry nodded. "I got here as fast as I could," he replied. "After I chased a guy off my floor and watched him vanish in the second floor stairwell."

Murphy's eyes harden. "Vanished?" She repeated.

"Yeah. Vanished." Harry made the hand motion for going 'poof', setting his folder down on small counter that held the surveillance cameras to the room beyond the one way glass.

"You get a good look at him?" she asked.

"About six foot, blue jeans, brown leather jacket. Short hair. Solid looking guy but in a good way." Harry counted off just as Karrin produced a print out and held it up to him. It was a mug shot taken in Little Rock, AK. It took a moment for Harry to see past the ridiculous expression the man was wearing but it was indeed the guy he saw in the stairwell.

"That's him."

Murphy nodded, taking the paper back. "I got a phone call from a detective in New York City. She said that a couple of hunters were looking to get in contact with a cop in the Chicago area that knew about the supernatural."

"Murph," Harry said, both surprised and amused. "When did you start networking like that?"

"What I do among my fellow officers is none of your business Dresden." She smiled at him. "Anyway, I had a meeting today with a Sam Winchester." She produced a similar mug shot of a much taller man with longish hair and wearing a miserable scowl. "He and his brother Dean are looking for you."

Dresden sighed, carding his hand through his hair and weighing the information. He had hunters in the city looking for him. He had evidence of a hunter in Carthage. He was investigating Carthage for the White Council. There was just no way this was all coincidence.

"I decided to follow a hunch and ask about Harvelle," Murphy continued. "The second I produced her registration, Sam shut right up."

Harry looked up. "He must have known her then. And yeah, Harvelle's a hunter. Elaine got back to me about her contacts and said she owned a bar in Nebraska that was a haunt for these people. Husband was one too."

Murphy nodded in agreement and reached behind her to produce another folder. "I called in a favor, looking into the two dead bodies they found in the hardware store explosion. There was little they could get in DNA evidence and the medical examiners are pretty sure there is going to be no way to identify the victims. All they can tell us is that there were two bodies and they were female."

Harry nodded slowly. "I'm beginning to suspect Harvelle might be one of them."

"The second one might be her daughter." Murphy said quietly.

The wizard closed his eyes and let out a breath. "Harvelle did have a daughter." He said somberly.

"DNA and finger print evidence recovered from the truck was connected to the blood found on the street and several of the shotgun cases recovered. Hair found on the passenger seat matched the blood on the ground…hair found on the driver's seat had thirteen genetic markers that connecting the passenger to the driver as a child to parent." Karrin reached for a chair sitting at the surveillance desk and settled herself down into it. "Daughter's name was Joanna Beth Harvelle. According to her birth records she'd be about twenty five. College dropout. Her last known address was Duluth, Minnesota about three years ago. She was there for a few months working in a bar and then one night after a break in, she just up and disappeared. Girl went completely off the grid."

Harry found a chair for himself and took a seat. "There is more isn't there."

Murphy nodded grimly. "There was a third set of prints and DNA recovered from the backset of the truck. All of it was matched to a missing persons case in Pontiac, Illinois."

Harry opened the folder and pulled out the documents. "James Novak. Missing since 2008."

"They connected him to DNA that was provided by the wife." Murphy explained. "I hate to be the agent that is going to tell Mrs. Novak they have found their husband's been riding around in the back of a car owned by another woman."

Harry chuckled dryly in agreement and then paused. "Wait…" He looked up. "Have they identified James from any of the bodies?"

"They are still processing it." Karrin sighed. "Identifying ten thousand bodies is not an easy task." She explained. "It took them over a year to handle the three thousand that died in 9-11."

"But there is no evidence he was in the hardware store explosion." The wizard mused. "And if he came with these two, he might not have been caught up in all the crap that killed all the people in this town."

"If you want to try I'm sure I can get you a sample of his DNA for a tracking spell." The officer admitted. "You're gonna need to bring me on this if I get the file for you…follow the chain of evidence, all that legal stuff."

Harry looked up. "Murph…"

"Harry, be realistic. You have a guy who has been missing for over a year turn up for the first time in a town that some warlock decided to use for a summoning ritual…I don't think you are going to find him." Murphy gestured about herself. "Alive, anyway." She added as an afterthought.

The wizard sighed in dismay. "I know, but it might be worth a shot. If they haven't found his body yet…he might among the missing men that were not found in the town." Harry sat back and regarded the missing persons report. "I've got to at least try. We might find those men."

Murphy threw her hands up in defeat. "Fine. I'll put in a request to the state police. Maybe they'll feel like getting their paperwork in order they and run it down here before we all go on vacation."

They sat in silence while Harry read the details of the bomb report. This was all stuff that he was probably going to run to Edinburgh with to inform the Council. The bomb had been simple but powerful. There was no known signatures as of yet, but Harry had the feeling that there wouldn't be any. Unless of course the agents decided the overwhelming amount of rock salt found in the blast area was it.

"The bomb was to kill the hellhounds." Harry said after a moment to the silence in the room. "The concentrations of metals and the salt are all known weapons against creatures of the supernatural."

Murphy nodded slowly, arms crossed over her chest and regarding the wizard. "And someone had to stay behind to blow up the bomb."

"Why two people though?" Harry said, looking up from the report.

The officer stared back at him grimly. "I think who ever was wounded in the street was one of the bodies. If I had to fathom a guess…if she was attacked by a hellhound…"

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "One doesn't usually walk away from that."

"William Harvelle died years ago. From what I figure, Joanna Harvelle was their only child. If both where there…" Murphy shook her head. "I think someone decided they weren't going to leave their little girl to the mercy of those beasts."

The wizard hung his head. "Hells bells." He whispered quietly.

"Also…" Murphy reached forward and pulled at a document in the folder, putting it on top. "Ballistics report."

Harry glanced at it.

"Shot gun shells." He murmured.

"From three different guns. There were also slugs from a colt pistol that was made back in the 1800s."

Harry frowned at her and then the report. "You can tell the age of the gun?"

"Lets just say that the FBI were just a little surprised to find that out themselves. They have matched it to a couple of cold cases and one assault." Murphy explained. "They found a slug in the public parking area and out in the field where the bodies are being recovered."

"Have they found the guns?"

Murphy stared at him, her expression neutral.

"They found two shotguns with the bodies." She said. "The third gun and the Colt pistol are MIA."

Harry glanced up at her, the puzzle coming together in his mind. Suddenly the hardware store explosion made more sense that just the suicide of two people caught between a rock and a hard place. The Hellhounds had been found in the store and bodies radiating away from the blast. They had been lured in to a trap.

"Someone else was there too," Murphy concluded. "And they got away."


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Thanks for the reviews people! There is going to be a soundtrack/playlist that goes with this and of course the wallpaper can be found on my DeviantART page.

* * *

Chapter Seven

Much to Harry's surprise, Thomas Raith was waiting for him when he pulled into the gravel parking lot belonging to the old boarding house where he lived in the basement apartment. The vampire had been sitting in a white Jag on the street, but wasted no time climbing out of it and trapping the wizard into his own car once the Blue Beetle came to a stop in its usual parking place.

Harry turned off the engine and listened to the Beetle choke itself into a dead silence. When he couldn't get out of his car, Harry rolled down his window and peered up at his half brother.

Thomas was half a head shorter than Harry and had the body of the perfect underwear model. He was dressed in black, save a fine white scarf around his neck, buffered from his throat with a high collar on a sweater. His hair was as black as Harry's, but slightly longer and blessed with the perfect natural curl. There were similar facial features, but the one that stood out the most was the other man's pale colored eyes.

"Harry," Thomas said through his teeth. "Do you have any sense in your god damn head?" He demanded, planting his hands firmly on the roof of the Beetle and allowing his whole body to block the window. "You should have left for Edinburgh hours ago!"

Harry stared at Thomas, surprised. "Hello Thomas. Nice to see you. You don't call much these days. How is Justine?" he deadpanned.

"This isn't funny Harry!" Thomas pressed.

"I know. You haven't talked to me in months." _Since the skin walker,_ Harry added to himself. "You wouldn't be here unless it was life or death right now," the wizard noted, now making sense of Thomas's odd posture over the window of the car. His brother was shielding him and using his own body to do it.

"Is this about the hunters?" Harry asked after a moment.

Thomas's jaw hardened. "The _Winchesters_ have come to Chicago for _you,_ Harry!"

Harry wasn't sure how his brother did it, but the statement alone was laced with both raging fury and pure fear.

"Thomas, let me out of my car," he said after a minute.

"You should go to Edinburgh. They can't get you there." Thomas pressed. "They were here less than an hour ago, trying to break in!"

Harry's tone became more forceful. "Thomas, let me out."

The vampire stared at him for a moment more, frustrated. He then drew back with a growl and allowed the wizard to unfold his lanky frame from the Beetle's interior and out into the parking lot. He scanned the area, paying attention to the cars driving up and down the road and the building across the street, where he had once caught a private investigator taking pictures of his apartment once before.

"They were trying to break in?" Harry asked, reaching for the back door and pulling out the files on the Carthage case. "You watched them do it?"

"When Mac called, I tried to catch up to them." Thomas explained tersely. "I couldn't find you at your office and when I called Murphy, you had already left the station. I had hoped you'd drop everything and run for the hills."

"They're just guys," Harry said, closing up his car.

"Winchesters," Thomas said, as if the name in itself was something to be revered. "Do you want to know what I know about Winchesters?"

"I hear it's a nice gun," The wizard shot back.

Thomas grabbed hold of Harry by the arm and marched them both down the steps to the apartment. There in the thin layer of snow that barely coated the cement landing were foot prints belonging to neither the vampire nor the wizard.

"They were starting to pick the locks when some guy in a trench coat stopped them. He must have known your place was warded," Thomas explained, holding up his talisman to disarm the wards. "Which is a damn shame since I was hoping your wards would kill them both."

"You really are taking this too far," Harry said, shouldering the steel security door and forcing it open. He managed with a firm bump to jar it loose from its warped frame and walk in.

Thomas locked them back up and decided to check the weapons cached in the popcorn tin next to the door. "I can't believe you," he muttered, picking up a sawed off shotgun and checking to see if it was loaded. "They are hunters Harry. They'd sooner shoot you in the head than to understand what is that you do and why you do it."

"So you're telling me if I wanted to call them out for a chat, they aren't going to care that I do what I do to help people? I thought they had issues with things that hurt people, not save them," Harry demanded. He snatched the shotgun out of his brother's hand and shoved it back into the tin. He waved his hand about the room and muttered the incantation to light the candles scattered about. A puff of flame began to smolder in the fireplace.

Thomas's expression actually darkened in the light. "If they knew I was there, they would have taken my head from my shoulders and not thought twice about it," he said coldly. "Lara is just as wound up over them and has locked down the mansion. I shouldn't even be here."

Harry peeled off his duster and hung up on a hook by the door. "I really think you're overreacting," he said, trying to stay on his feet as thirty pounds of cat shoulder him in the shins. "Murphy thinks they are here about Carthage."

"Then drop the case," Thomas ordered, watching his brother set into the alcove of his kitchen to fill the dishes for the cat and dog. "Because they probably think you are responsible for that mess."

Harry scoffed. "There is no way I could pull off a summoning ritual like that, let alone kill that many people and make a bunch more disappear in one night," he said. "There were hunters in Carthage when it all went to hell."

Thomas actually let out an exasperated laugh. "Great." He threw up his arms in defeat. "Not only do they probably think you did it, they'll want your head for probably killing one of their own."

"Yeah well," Harry muttered. "If they came to town to kill me, they are doing a piss poor job of it," he said, digging about the ice box for something to eat. He produced a can of tuna and some bread, alongside a can of coke. "I caught one of them in my office building this afternoon."

"And you let him go?" Thomas demanded.

Harry shook his head. "He vanished."

The vampire stared at him. The silence that stretched on in the wake of that statement unnerved Harry as he went about making his supper. He paused in the middle of draining the water from the tuna to glance at his brother.

"He _vanished_?" Thomas repeated.

"That's what I said," Harry replied.

The vampire sighed and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Harry, you really should leave town," he said.

"I can't leave." The wizard announced. "I've got work to do. The White Council is crawling the walls trying to figure out what happened in Carthage. People are dead. Ten thousand people are dead and you expect me to walk away from that?"

Thomas dropped his hand, defeat now ghosting across his face. "Empty night!" he cursed. "Don't tell me you are going to try and prove to these guys you didn't do it."

"I didn't," Harry said, picking up his sandwich and taking a bite.

The vampire sighed and focused his steel colored gaze on the fire that was steadily growing across the room, bringing warmth in its wake. "Then what would? If it can't be human could it be one of the Queens?"

"Oh hell no." Harry's face soured. "That is totally out of bounds for them."

"Then a demon?" Thomas offered.

The wizard shrugged. "Demon using a human, maybe." Harry said. He took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. He cast his eyes to the square bit of carpet that was the trap door to his lab. He was eventually going to go down there and pick up his research again once Thomas left.

"Bob said this was biblical." Harry said.

Thomas lifted a brow at him. "You have a bible?"

Harry cast him a dower look. As if that had to be asked of the wizard. Thomas lifted his hands up in defense.

"It would make a lot of sense." Thomas offered. "The crap that happened in Carthage sounds like it was ripped right out of _Revelations_."

* * *

Thanksgiving morning arrived with Molly Carpenter and about three inches of snow. Harry squinted into the morning sunlight and pulled back the door to let his young apprentice in.

Molly reached up to her toque and pulled it off, revealing the new color of the month, a deep dark bloody red that now graced the top of her head. She held in her hands a beat up black book with worn gilded pages. The front of it had embossed lettings with flaking gold print that read _The Holy Bible_.

"I brought you mine," she said, holding the book out to him in her mitten covered hands. "And I've come to get you."

Harry frowned at her. "For what?" he asked. A lot of people were insisting they came to get him or take him away these days. After seeing his brother's rapt concern for his wellbeing last night, Harry had woken up this morning wondering if he shouldn't just pack up some of the stuff in his lab, grab Molly (as her teacher in all things magic, it was safe to assume she could also be a target of the hunters as well), and head to Edinburgh for a long vacation.

"I came to invite you to dinner," Molly said. "Mom made plenty and Dad and I thought you could use a break. We've…been worried about you…since you got back."

Harry looked down at the book in his hands. He had put all of Molly's lessons on hold since being rushed out to Carthage. Upon his return he had made it clear that he needed time to work on his case and planned to actually keep Molly far away from this disturbing event.

But that didn't mean Molly hadn't been able to watch the news and figure out for herself what her teacher had gotten himself into. Michael too.

"Please, Harry," Molly said. "Dad's waiting outside in the truck."

Harry sighed after a minute and nodded. "Alright. Let me…give this to Bob and put on a better shirt." The wizard announced. Molly's eyes brightened and she started for the door. As she did, Harry grabbed the back of her coat.

"Tell your dad not to wait for me. The two of you go home." Harry ordered. "I'll be along. Promise."

Molly stared at him, surprise. "Uh…sure."

Harry let go and watched as Molly slipped outside into the glaring white morning. Michael Carpenter's truck loomed just above the horizon and blended in very well with the snow. As his apprentice climbed into the passenger seat of the behemoth, he could see Michael lift a hand from the wheel in a gesture of hello.

Harry mimicked the motion. But as he did, he felt an overwhelming sense of dread come over him. He had been too busy in this investigation to care that two, maybe three, guys who had it out for the otherworldly might have come to town to kill him…and that his apprentice might be caught in the crossfire. Hell, maybe even Michael and the rest of his family as well.

It had happened before.

* * *

"Chinese food, the staple of a Winchester Thanksgiving," Sam muttered.

Dean glanced up at him from a carton of lo mein. "I drove through a blizzard to get you egg drop soup. Shut up."

"Dean, you should not lie to your brother," Castiel said, poking at a piece of sweet and sour chicken with a chopstick. Sam had yet to figure out how much longer Dean was going to insist the angel use the wooden dining utensils since it was clear the only reason he had not been handed a fork yet was for the other hunter's amusement. "There has been no blizzard since before dawn and you did not retrieve this meal. I did, at your request."

Sam turned to his brother, brows raised and a smile starting to spread across his face. "Thank you, Cas." He then fished around a plastic bag and produced a fork. "Here, use this instead."

Castiel took the offered fork and set his chopsticks down. "Thank you."

Dean pouted at Sam for running his fun and proceeded to continue eating, in his mind, the delightful feast spread before them.

There was little else to do besides sit around the motel room and keep themselves entertained, since all of Chicago was shut down for the holiday. Sam had spent the whole morning rutting about the Chicago Public Library's digital records and dozens of archives from the local papers. Dean had made himself useful and cleaned every gun in the Impala, sharpened the knives, and made fresh holy water while watching the Macy's Day Parade and explaining to Castiel the importance of the event.

It was odd to have the angel stay with them for so long. Dean was insistent that Castiel remained with them while he finished recuperating from his brothers. This morning the bandage on the side of the angel's neck could finally be removed along with the tape around his ribs. There was now hardly any evidence that he had even been wounded only a few days ago. Somewhere in all of that, Dean had managed to convince the angel he needed to part take in more human rituals to keep up his strength and had successfully taught him in the finer points of first aid.

Sam sighed and looked down at his lunch. He had gotten tired at staring at the computer and had gone for a walk. When he came back, Dean and Castiel had procured a fine selection of Chinese food from the motel's restaurant listing.

"What have you discerned from your research, Sam?" Castiel asked around a mouthful of food. Sam made a note to let the angel know talking with one's mouth full was something Dean did and not Hosts of Heaven.

The younger brother moved his pie tin of sesame chicken aside and picked up a stack of notes that had been left haphazardly on his bed. "That we completely suck at reading newspapers," he announced and dropped a stack about an inch and half thick between him and Dean.

"How so?" Dean asked, confused.

Sam held up the first print out from the top of the pile. "This is an article from _The Midwestern Arcane_," he said. "Read it."

Dean took it and rocked back onto the back legs of his chair. He braced himself against the baseball themed partition that divided the kitchenette from their beds and proceeded to read and chew on an eggroll. Sam watched as Dean read, his expression nonchalant as the other hunter's rhythmic chewing began to slow and come to a stop about half way through the page.

The front legs of Dean's chair hit the floor again with a crack. "This is a werewolf attack," he said around a mouthful of food.

"Yeah. From 2001," Sam added. He snatched the paper out of Dean's hand and handed it to Castiel. While the angel read for himself, Sam shoved another one at his brother. "This is an account from a medical examiner about a fire in 2002. He testified, in court, that the bodies they recovered were not completely human."

"Vampires," Dean mused.

"And this…," Sam held up another article, "is about a couple of guys who were arrested for breaking into the nursery of Cook County hospital." He started to hand it to Dean when he instead offered it to Castiel. "Read the highlighted bit, Cas."

The angel took a moment to find the section Sam indicated. "According to this, 'An eyewitness account described one of the men as wearing a white cloak with a red cross and carrying a five foot long board sword.'."

"_Amoracchius_ was a broad sword. And white cloaks with crosses are a sign of Templar Knights," Dean spoke up, hold out his hand for the paper. "What the hell was going on in Cook County?"

Sam leafed through his stack and held up a folder with some of the printouts in it. "This." He slapped it down in the middle of the table. "Apparently there was a string of infant deaths in the nursery over the last hundred or so years. It began around the time of an Agatha Haggletorn's murder suicide. According to a police report at the time of her death, she killed her abusive husband after she suffocated their child," the younger hunter explained. "After the night the wizard and a Michael Carpenter were arrested, the mortality rate in the nursery dropped like a rock."

"Son of a bitch," Dean whispered. "This guy is doing our job."

"Looks like," Sam nodded in agreement. He shifted through the stack and produced another document. "This was two years later. A Japanese man was found tortured and killed in O'Hare International Airport. Get this, his body was found in the chapel, body drained of its blood. Police say that the walls were covered in 'satanic runes'. The body was identified through dental records as Shiro Yoshimo. Dresden was a prime suspect in the case until an anonymous tip turned it into a terrorist investigation. The police think the murders of several foreigners, including Yoshimo, was the work of a terrorist cell."

Castiel lowered his head somberly. "The significance of his death and the manner in which it occurred must mean he was one of the Knights."

"Killed in a chapel," Dean muttered with a shake of his head. "I'll try not to see the irony in that." He looked up at Sam. "Is there anything else?"

Sam sat back in his chair and stared down at the pile of paper. "Yeah. But nothing to do with the swords," he replied. "The rest of it is all…unruly ghosts, stray witches and wizards, vampire attacks, strange weather patterns, reports of zombies…"

The other hunter perked up. "Zombies?"

"Zombies," Sam nodded.

Dean closed his eyes in exasperation. "Wow. This city is messed up," he muttered. "And Dresden's been in the middle of all of it, doing our job."

"Looks like." Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "Maybe that is why no one's come to town to punch his ticket yet." He looked up at Dean and Castiel, looking between them both. "I also did my homework on the Nevernever."

Castiel's jaw tightened in annoyance. "I will not take either of you with me to confront the Queens in return for the amulet."

"Tough shit," Dean snapped. He looked over at Sam. "Whatcha got?"

"There are ways for mortals to cross the veil." Sam explained. "Literal _Ways_. But it takes someone with some considerable skill and power to pierce the veil."

The older hunter pointed a finger at Castiel. The angel actually glared in return.

"Or a wizard," Sam added. He didn't doubt for a second the look Castiel fired his way was suppose to turn him into a salt pillar where he sat.

"The wizard?" Dean's brow knitted together. "Aw come on Sam! We're gonna ask him to help us with that mess too? We've already botched meeting him on even ground."

Sam sighed, sifting through the wreckage that was now lunch, notes, and printouts for a crumpled yellow pages ad. "Maybe we should just call the guy and come right out with it."

"That's a brilliant plan," was the sarcastic reply.

"Then what do you suggest Dean? We stroll up to his house, kick in the door, point a gun to his head and say please?" he challenged. "Oh and while we're at it, rob him of the swords?"

Castiel looked up. "As I have said before, attempting to break into the wizard's home is unwise."

"Yeah because his house is wired to blow if someone messes with the front door." Dean waved a hand at him. "We got it the first time."

The room fell into an uneasily silence, which was only disturbed by the sounds of the television droning on in the background. The dull roar of a football game had been their background music through the conversation, but as the silence stretched on the game came to a halt and the sounds of trumpets and drums belong to a news channel followed in its wake. Castiel turned his attention quickly to that, since he was sitting facing the box at their small table. Both brothers in turn pulled themselves out of their musings just as the reporter faded in.

"Many people are still grieving for the loss of life in the city of Carthage, Missouri, today. Federal investigators have raised the death toll to a staggering 11,369 lives as of this morning, with thousands more still missing. Homeland Security has made their first official announcement today concerning the disaster, confirming the possibility of this being a terrorist act after the careful investigation of a bombing that took place at a local hardware store…"

The silence that had overtaken the motel room was suddenly disturbed by the sound of Dean's chair skidding back across the floor and the furious rutting about to recover his coat.

Sam was snapped out of his reverie just as Dean stormed for the door.

"Dean!" He called, getting up. "Dean, wait!"

The older hunter stepped out into the cold afternoon and slammed the door in his wake.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Thanks for the reviews! And, hate to break it to you...but getting the boys to meet is not as easy as the last chapter made it sound. If I had to guess, this story is about as long as a typical Dresden File's book. But it is time for DRAMA and ACTION and SUSPENSE. And...FYI....I am not responsible for the damage to your computer or surrounding objects, people, or pets while you fangirl flail reading this chapter.

* * *

Chapter 8

Harry hadn't expected to join the Carpenter family in a pleasant meal. He was a little surprised to be extended such an invitation until he finally stomped in out of the cold and realized there was a black Russian sitting at a children's coloring table. Sanya looked up from coloring pictures with the youngest of the Carpenter children, Hope and Harry, the wizard's namesake.

"'ello Harry." Sanya smiled at him, but the smile clearly had some effort put in it.

Harry stared at Sanya. "Let me guess, you were just passing through?" he offered. Harry found it hard to believe that, by some act of God, the Knights of the Cross were always assembled where they were most needed. On more than one occasion Sanya had appeared only to end up in the thick of whatever mess the wizard and Michael had found themselves in…and local priests tended to be ready for the sacred duty of baby sitting the Carpenter children when ever they least expected it.

"Something like that," Sanya said, picking up a crayon offered by Hope. It was indeed a curious sight to see, since the Knight sat on the floor while the children sat in cute plastic chairs.

Harry hung up his coat and proceeded to the kitchen to help set the table.

The feast Charity provided was lavish and wonderful. It was very rare for Harry to enjoy such fancies on such a family holiday, since he mostly lived alone and everyone else he knew had their own families to attend to. He was grateful for the invite but at the same time painfully aware that at the first opportunity following their late lunch, someone was going to bring up the fact that the Carpenters had two unexpected guests present.

It came in the form of the phone ringing off the hook.

Michael looked at Charity over a tier of pies with a frown. Molly excused herself from the table and dashed into the kitchen to answer it. There was a curious hello and then silence. Molly leaned out into the dinning room and held up the phone. "Harry, it's for you."

Harry quirked a brow at Michael. "Nobody knows I'm here."

The former Knight shrugged as the wizard stood up and took the phone.

"Harry, it's Murphy." Karrin's voice sounded tense.

"Murph," Harry replied. "Shouldn't you be with your family?"

"You need to come to St. Mary's," she said quietly. It was rare for her to sound so out of joint with her work. Unless of course it was someone they knew.

Harry straightened. "Karrin, what happened?"

* * *

Saint Mary's of the Angels was a vision in the bright sunlight and snow. Even in mid afternoon, the light seemed to cast a golden gleam on the dark stone façade of the church. Everything around it looked stunning and beautiful.

But there were squad cars and ambulances surrounding the church. The huge solid doors were in shambles and paramedics were wheeling gurneys with body bags up the handicap ramp.

"Mother of God," Michael whispered from behind the wheel of his truck.

Harry swallowed thickly. "Michael, stay here. I'll go check it out."

"I'm coming too," Sanya said from behind them, shifted over to exit out of the back of the king cab. Both the Knight and the wizard stepped out into the street and started for the squad cars. Harry dug around his coat as they approached and clipped on his consultant badge.

Murphy met them at the edge of the police barricade outside the front of St. Mary's, stopping them from rushing through and straight into the church as the coroner exited the building with one full body bag.

"What happened?" Harry demanded.

"Someone broke into the church," she explained. "Two of the clergy who worked with Anthony are dead. They were…eviscerated."

Harry stared at Murphy, his eyes wide. "Karrin, not that I don't care about the guys who are dead…where is the Padre?"

The sergeant's lips set into a thin line. "He's been taken to Mercy. A janitor found him…crucified to the altar. Someone _tortured _him."

Rawlings, Murphy's partner and an aging African American, nodded slowly. "I've seen a lot of things in my day, but I ain't ever seen that," he confessed. "Whatever it was, looked like some satanic ritual."

Harry watched the second body bag roll behind Murphy to the coroner's van. "You said the bodies were torn up?"

Murphy grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him in the wake of the medical examiner. She stopped the coroner from putting the body away into the van and brought the wizard up to look inside the bag.

"He's familiar with these types of attacks," the officer announced to the confused M.E. and unzipped the plastic.

Harry felt his pumpkin pie roll in his gut as he looked down at the mauled body of a layman. It was some mercy that he was dressed in simple black attire that tricked the eye into believing there was not as much blood covering the body. But it didn't hide the fact the man's chest had been crawled into, skin and fabric sliced into ribbons. Loopy gray ropes of intestines were exposed and the man's throat had been ripped out. His hands and arms were covered in defensive wounds that took the shape of teeth marks.

"I haven't seen wounds like that since the werewolf case," Harry said quietly to Murphy, pulling the cover back over the dead man's body before he did make himself sick.

Murphy nodded. "That's what I thought," she said.

"But you said someone walked in there and tortured Forthill," Harry said, walking away and leaving the coroner to pack up.

"Follow me," she ordered and up into the church they went.

The doors of the church had been ravished just as well as the dead laymen. The carpet was ripped up in similar claw marks across the floor and as one stepped further into the navel of St. Mary's pews were in shambles and blood coated wooden seats and floors.

The altar at the front of the room, beyond the pulpit had been torn apart. The stain glass windows had been cracked and yellow police tape blocked off the bloody spot on the floor.

The hair started to rise on the back of Harry's neck.

"Someone used magic here," he whispered.

Murphy took a careful breath. "Is this the Denarians?" she demanded quietly.

"I wouldn't put it past them," Harry answered. He came to a stop at the edge of the taped line and cast his eyes over the rubble.

Murphy came closer to him, her voice low. "Forthill was conscious when we found him."

Harry swallowed. "Hell's bells, that's awful," he murmured.

"He said something to me before they rushed him away," the officer continued to speak quietly. "He said 'Look behind the wall'."

The wizard stared at her for a moment before turning and proceeded through the church towards the quarters belonging to the priests. From the looks of the hall, the fighting and whatever had attacked the laymen had made it all the way into the back. Harry found Father Forthill's quarters in complete shambles.

A couple of investigators looked up from where they were taking pictures.

"You can't be back here," one of them said.

"He's with me," Murphy said, catching up. "Detective Stallings wants someone checking out the back, since it looks like our preps didn't go out the door they came in."

"All right." The two investigators walked carefully out of the room, keeping to the edges. They filed out and made their way into the kitchen area. Harry waited until they were out of earshot before turning his attention to the Sergeant.

"Did you just lie to let me into a crime scene?" he hissed.

Murphy glared him, her expression sour. "If these are Denarians, there is nothing I can do to bring them to justice," she said sternly. "So get whatever it is you need and get out before I regret it."

Harry ducked into the priest's chambers, keeping to the edge of the room as the investigators and came up against a wood panel in the wall. It took him a moment to remember exactly where to place his hands but after a couple a gentle nudges the panel pushed back to expose a bookshelf and a couple of filing cabinets.

There as a bloody hand print on one of the drawers that hadn't been shut all the way. Harry reached out and pulled it open enough to look inside. There were three files shoved hastily into the row. The one on top read in clear block letters: RIVER PASS.

But written under it in Forthill's scrawl was a message.

_"They are coming for the swords"_

Harry looked up at Murphy, who was watching the door. Her arms crossed over her chest and her expression one of barely contained frustration. The wizard nodded and pushed the drawer back, taking the files out of it and stuffing them into his coat.

He slid the wood panel back into place just as the investigators returned.

"There was a team already around back."

"Oh," Murphy said, feigning surprise. "Then I guess we'll get back to photographing the chambers." She looked over at Harry. "Are you done, Dresden?"

Harry nodded. "Yes." He joined her at the door and started back for the main entrance of the church.

"Are you leaving now?"

"I've gotta find out what this is about," Harry said. "It looks like Denarians."

Murphy's jaw tightened. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Someone is probably coming to kill me," he muttered. "I think I might have a bigger problem than hunters."

* * *

"_This is Dean, leave a message_."

Sam hoped his brother could hear his teeth grinding as he left his fourth message on his brother's cell phone.

"Dean, it's Sam. This is the last time I'm going to call your damn phone, man. If you don't call me back in the next," Sam checked his watch, "fifteen minutes, I'm going back to the motel room and turning on the GPS!" He pulled his phone away from his ear and jabbed at the end call button.

It was just coming up on eleven o'clock at night. Dean had left around one and completely vanished without a trace. He didn't even taken the Impala, which worried Sam more as he sat behind the wheel and contemplated the bar he had just been in. It was one of the few that had been opened on Thanksgiving Day. Had it been anywhere else in the United States, the hundreds of small towns the brothers had been in over the past three decades, Sam was sure he would have found his brother much more quickly since nobody was open on a holiday like today.

_This just had to happen in a major city, _Sam thought sourly as he put the Impala in drive. _And of course there is no way in hell Castiel is going to find him with the Enochian on his damn ribs._

The hazel-eyed hunter drove slowly through the snow, which had started falling again once nightfall came and hadn't let up. A fair three inches of lake effect coated the roads and nobody was out to plow them. The snow in combination with the lack of public works only furthered Sam's frustration in finding his brother.

He came up to an intersection were the stoplight cast a red and hazy glow on the snow and hood of the Impala.

"To hell with this," Sam muttered, picking up his phone. Just as he did, a pedestrian came around the building and was coming up to the crosswalk. The light turned green, but the hunter decided to wait for the man while he made his call. He put the Impala in park and waved the man across; there was nobody around this part of town that was going to care if he sat at an intersection for a minute or two.

"_This is Dean, leave a message_."

Sam did his very best to not snarl. "Dean! I'm going back to the motel to turn on the GPS. This is unbelievably stupid, even for you." He paused and took a breath, letting some of his anger go. "Look man, I miss them too. But you can't just take off in the middle of all this crap…" Sam cast his eyes upward to scan the street, seeing if he had time to bare his soul.

The man that he had waved through the crosswalk was standing there, center with the front of the Impala and facing him. Snow coated his shoulders, draped in a black winter coat and he was wearing a hat to cover his head.

Sam blinked at the man several times, wondering why he was just standing there when he realized that what he had mistaken for a weird tie around the man's neck was in fact the frayed ends of a hang man's noose.

The man looked up at Sam and offered him a sincere smile.

The driver's side door opened with a screeching protest and Sam moved to fight off the thick heavy hands that reached into the Impala for him. He made for the gun Dean kept under the seat while he rammed an elbow into the face of the burly assailant. The man staggered back, holding a hand to his gushing nose while trying to emit a cry. It came out like an awful squawk. Another man came at him, this time better prepared for a struggle and while Sam managed to shove a gun into his chest and fire, the sensation of a needle being rammed into his leg reminded him that he had just utterly failed to cover his own ass.

The second man fell back with the gunfire, which echoed loudly through the empty street and the Impala. Sam watched him land on his back in the snow, clutching his shoulder and wailing much like the other man. The sound puzzled the hunter until he could see as the wounded man on the ground opened his mouth that he possessed no tongue.

Sam turned his attention back to his leg, where the needle was still buried. He hoped furiously that the second goon hadn't managed to dispel its contents into his body. Much to his dismay, Sam yanked the needle out of his leg and found the plunger at the bottom.

"It would be best if you remained still Samuel," the man with the noose around his neck said, coming around the end of the Impala. He came to lean on the open door and look into the vehicle at him.

Sam pointed his gun at the man. "What was in that?" he demanded, still clutching the needle.

"A sedative," the man offered. "Enough that if you tried to drive off, you'll crash your brother's precious car in a snow bank about a block from here."

Sam could feel his vision starting to get fuzzy. He dropped the needle and started to dig around his seat for the cell phone, finding it in the wheel well at his feet. He picked up the device only to have it swatted away by the first goon with the broken nose.

"No calling your pet angel," the man with the noose said. "Just relax, you're going to be asleep in about another," he looked down at a watch on his wrist, "minute."

The hunter lifted his gun and pointed it at the man, only to have that wrestled out of his grip a second later with a loud bang. At this time Sam was dragged out of the car and his gun pitched into the gutter.

Two more goons like the first had been hovering at the back of the Impala and now came to help the tame the struggling Winchester. Sam made to swing and miss, his balance too far beyond recovery, and fell to his hands and knees in the snowy sidewalk.

He could see the cell phone just beyond the feet of the men now encircling him. The screen was light up and the minutes were ticking down. The words "Connected to Dean" still displayed.

Sam groaned, trying to get himself to focus as the world started to tunnel. "Who…who…"

"You should not have come to Chicago looking for the swords, Sam," the man said and that was when Sam couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Hello again, Here is chapter 9. I'm going to send off the next three chapters to my beta after I do another once over. And as of now, we have officially left Act 1. :) Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

Chapter Nine

"You can't be serious!" Harry protested.

Bob stared at him from the mantel of the fire place, his eye lights flickering like those of the candles collected around him. The evening chill had forced Harry out of his lab and now he stood pacing his small apartment with Sanya and Michael keeping watch from the couch.

The skull said nothing to otherwise prove the wizard wrong.

Harry felt something clench in the pit of his stomach. He dragged a hand back through his hair with a grimace and kept pacing in frustration.

Michael looked up from where he sat, his chin rested on his clasped hands and leaning against his knees. "You are certain of this, spirit?"

"The facts speak for themselves. The ritual in Carthage was the summoning of a Horsemen," the skull reported. "The files you brought me about River Pass only confirm my findings."

Sanya flipped slowly through the report, reading over the account that had been given by a priest caught in the thick of an all out war among the citizens of the Colorado town. The Knight confessed that he had been coming from River Pass to give these documents to Father Forthill for safe keeping, being the closest priest of the sacred Order that the Knights of the Cross answered to.

He had also been sent to Chicago because someone in Vatican City found out that the White Council had stuck its nose into Carthage and wanted to collect the notes from the lead investigator for comparison. Apparently they were too far behind the ball to collect any creditable evidence from the scene to conduct their own.

"There was a Horsemen in River Pass?" Harry asked.

"Yes. According to the priest, a man and his brother that arrived in the town shortly after the fighting broke out identified the Horsemen from specific signs that had been seen by the locals days earlier. _Revelations _8:10."

Michael looked down at the other files on the floor between them, warming in the light from the fireplace. "What about the other files, spirit?" he asked.

"More proof that the Apocalypse has started." Bob replied.

Harry stopped pacing and leaned over the back of his couch. "What kind of proof?"

"Someone broke sixty six of the six hundred Seals to release Lucifer from Hell."

Harry pointed at the rubber band bound folder. "There were only sixty four cases recorded. You're off by two."

"The first and the last Seals are the most important," Bob explained. "Whatever you do, you have to break one specific Seal first and wrap up with the last one. If there are Horsemen walking the earth, then you can bet the farm that all sixty six were broken."

Harry shook his head. "What are they then? If there are specific ones, why isn't there a record of them being broken?"

Michael sighed as he stared into the fire from his seat. "The first Seal," he began, "is broken when a righteous man sheds blood in Hell."

The wizard's eyes narrowed at him in confusion. "Wait," he said. "How does that make any sense? If you're a righteous man, isn't impossible to end up downstairs?" Harry pointed to the floor.

"I am unsure myself as to how it might happen," the former Knight confessed. "But it is not beyond the realm of possibility. It is a Seal."

"What's the last?" Harry asked.

"The first demon is the last Seal," Michael said, pulling his gaze from the fire. "Lilith must be slain to complete the cycle." He reached out and picked up the contents of a file titled ILLCHESTER, MD and held up a picture taken of a ruined monastery. The building and everything around it for a mile had been blown sky high and in the epicenter of the blast was a hole.

"St. Mary's Convent," he said. "In 1972, a priest murdered eight sisters of the order." Michael picked up a scan of a newspaper clipping. "Father Lethne denied responsibility, claiming he was possessed by a demon named Azazel. Church records say that Azazel was given specific directions to find a special child and to free Lilith from the Pit to begin breaking the Seals."

Bob let out a whistle. "Azazel, leader of the Grigori. Guess old habits die hard," he muttered.

"Did the Denarians have anything to do with this?" Harry asked. "Nicodemus and his buddies?"

"Several of the Seals broken outside of North America were handled by the Denarians," Sanya informed. "I collected the accounts of their destruction while in Africa, Europe, and Asia…but nobody knew for sure what was happened until the priest from River Pass contacted the Order."

Harry shook his head. "I can't believe this," he muttered. "Okay…so…who as the power to raise a Horsemen?"

"Denarians," Sanya and Michael said together.

"Do we have any idea which one?" the wizard asked.

"Nothing specific," Bob announced to the room. "The Horsemen in themselves are always bad news. The sacrifice of a whole city could be for any one of them." The skull said.

Harry pointed to Sanya. "You said the priest was told who his Horsemen was by a complete stranger. Was there a name? Maybe we can ask them for some input." He turned to the counter in the kitchen and picked up a pad of paper and a pencil.

"According to the priest, the man called himself Dean," the Russian said.

Harry froze.

Michael noticed and frowned at him. "Something wrong?"

"Was there a last name?" the wizard demanded.

Sanya glanced at the paper. "No, all it says is that he had a brother who arrived with him. His name was Sam. They were friends of the first group of outsiders that came into the town the day before."

Harry grabbed the briefing from the Knight's hands and started to read himself. He flipped back several pages and started from the beginning. Halfway through the second page his shoulders dropped and his expression sobered.

"Ellen and Joanna Harvelle." The wizard dropped the paper. "They were in River Pass when the first Horsemen appeared. And so were the Winchester brothers."

Michael and Sanya shared a look before turning their attention back to Harry. "Do you know who they are?"

Harry nodded slowly as he came around the end of the couch and took a seat, staring down at the stacks of files and the pictures from all the locations listed. He sighed and flicked the paper in his hand onto the floor, letting it land where ever it wanted. "Harvelle and her daughter were in Carthage."

Michael perked up. "Did they survive?"

"No." Harry whispered. "They died killing a pack of Hellhounds from the looks of it." He looked up at the former Knight. "The priests at St. Mary's were attacked by something with the teeth and claws of a big dog."

Sanya leaned forward. "Harry, if those where hellhounds…then that means whatever was in Carthage is now here in Chicago."

* * *

Since he was not limited to the use of cars and distance to find Dean, Castiel could search the whole city just by taking flight and trying to deduce where his charge would seek solace from his inner turmoil. Sam was right in pointing out many of the bars would be closed due to the holiday that was taking place. Dean had also, shockingly, left his car behind, further limiting the scope of their search.

Castiel figured Dean had decided for once to escape through public transportation.

So it was no surprise to the seraphim when he found his hunter on the El, stone cold sober.

Dean ignored him as the angel took a seat next to him. In turn, Castiel sat back and kept his eyes trained ahead, starting out the adjacent window and watching a wintered Chicago flash by. Their car was for the most part vacant save a bum who was looking for a place to sleep on such a chilly night and the officers patrolling the train didn't have the heart to kick him out on Thanksgiving.

He wasn't sure which part of the city he was in, but Dean at this point could have cared less. He knew it was impossible to hide from his brother or the angel and they would eventually find him or wait till he came back to the motel.

The former happened first.

"Your brother is looking for you," Castiel said, staring out the window in front of him.

"No shit, Sherlock," Dean growled.

"Sam is very worried about you," the angel tried again. "You may not be aware of it, but his pain for what happened runs just as deep as yours."

Dean shook his head, snorting in disbelief. "You know, I really don't want to talk about it."

Castiel lowered his head. "If you choose to express yourself Dean, you will overcome your guilt and find the peace you are seeking."

At this the hunter shot to his feet and paced a little ways down the cabin. He grabbed a hold of a rail and squeezed until his knuckles turned white.

"Violence is not the release that you need." Castiel amended.

Dean turned on him, furious. "They are dead, Cas! They are dead because of me! Because of Sam! Ellen and Jo!" He all but roared. "They died trying to save the god damn world!"

Castiel stared at him. "Yes they did," he replied gravely. "And they will be rewarded for their noble sacrifice."

"Shut up." Dean ordered. "Just shut your friggin' mouth!"

The angel raised his head in challenge but sat back in his seat and watched as the hunter paced, like a tiger in a cage. He had seen his charge confronted with a multitude of trials, one in particular the confrontation with his former master from Hell. This was no different. Dean was riddled with overwhelming guilt. Doubt had eclipsed the hunter and driven him right to the very edge. From where the angel sat, he could see within the mind of his charge and could see him calculating. Was this the end? Was this the future that Zachariah promised happening? Should he just give in now and not have to bear the loss of his brother or Robert Singer? Had he finally become his father? Did he let Jo and Ellen die like John Winchester had William?

And then there was the pain that surged like a swollen river beneath the frozen surface of his guilt and anger.

"I failed," Dean ground out.

Castiel pulled himself back from Dean's mind and regarded his charge with rapt attention. "Your guilt stems from a failure that neither you, your brother, nor I were aware of," he said. "Dean, you must understand that you alone are not the only one burden with the loss of the Harvelles. And while you will not freely admit it to your brother or I, your pain cuts deeper than ours only because you realized too late that you had fallen in love…and had been for sometime."

"I put a detonator in her hand, Cas," Dean whispered. "I made the bomb that blew her and her mother to Hell."

Castiel stood up and came to stand before Dean, their eyes meeting.

"You believe that the guilt is yours and yours alone to bear," the seraphim informed. "You have been too preoccupied in blaming yourself for something that was beyond all of our control to prevent. You have not taken the time to notice that your brother feels equally as responsible for Ellen and Joanna's deaths. Your friend Robert Singer blames himself for not being able to assist you when you needed him the most."

Dean stared at Castiel, his resolve starting to weaken. "What about you then?" he demanded.

The angel's jaw tightened. "I flung myself carelessly back into the search for my Father so that we would not suffer the deaths of what remains of our friends and family. For my recklessness brought on by guilt, I may have cost us our only chance at preventing the end of the world."

Dean swallowed thickly and closed his eyes, no longer intending to stare his angel down. Castiel waited, swaying back and forth with the movement of the train while Dean gripped a poll for balance.

It wasn't until the train came to a stop at the next station that Dean looked up.

"Cas?" Dean murmured.

"Yes, Dean?" the angel replied.

"I'm…lost. Can you give me a lift back to the motel?"

Castiel reached up with two fingers and pressed them to Dean's forehead.

* * *

By the time Dean had recovered enough to face his brother, he called Sam's cell to bring him back to the motel. When Sam didn't answer, Dean checked his phone again and found several voice messages waiting for him. He scoffed a little and began to listen to his brother's frustrated calls. His humor drained as the last of the messages began to play.

After activating the GPS in Sam's phone, Castiel whisked them both across the distance and dropped them about a block and a half from were the signal originated from. Dean guessed that he had only been twenty minutes behind his brother's message and it was apparently enough for the whole world to just go to hell.

The Impala sat quietly at a stop light with a half dozen police officers standing around it, taking photographs of the car and surrounding areas. Another group of officers were spread out across the street, scanning the tracks in the snow and contacting patrol cars over their radios.

Sam was nowhere in sight.

"No," Dean choked out in numb horror. He took a step forward towards the scene.

Castiel reached out, taking a hold of Dean's coat sleeve. "Dean, we should leave."

The hunter remained still, even when an officer looked up from opening the trunk of the Impala and found the two of them standing there in the middle of the snow-covered street.

"Dean!" Castiel pressed.

"Sam…"

The angel stepped in front of his charge. "If they have not found the weapons cache yet, they are going to find it eventually. We must leave Dean. You are no good to your brother if you have been arrested and charged for carrying illegal weapons and false identification."

Dean snapped his gaze from the Impala and the approaching uniform and cast mortified eyes on the seraphim.

Castiel flew them away, leaving the officer that was coming for them blinking owlishly at the spot they had just been standing in. He would have just passed it off as a figment of his imagination if he hadn't walked up to the spot and found two sets of shoe prints…that neither came nor went from where they appeared.


	10. Chapter 10

AN: Sorry for the wait, took a while getting these edited by myself and the beta. And now begins the five most awesome chapters so far written! I love the end of this chapter so much and the next one is going to be a blast! Thanks for reading and reviewing.

* * *

Chapter Ten

Morning came in the form of Sergeant Murphy with gifts from the Missing Persons Department of Illinois and Dunkin' Donuts. She handed over the coffee without a single word, sitting on the couch and sipping her own while Harry built up the fire and proceeded to gulp down the hot, bitter nectar from its Styrofoam grail.

"I have something else," Murphy announced once Harry was coherent enough to understand what she was saying.

Harry packed a glazed donut into his cheek and watched her intently for more.

"I got a phone call from patrol last night. They impounded a 1967 black Chevy Impala abandoned at the intersection of Thorndale and Broadway," she informed, taking a sip from her coffee.

"And that concerns me…how?" Harry asked, still chewing on the donut.

Murphy sighed. "It's the same make and model of the car that belongs to the Winchesters. I put out a notice on the car and said I wanted to know if anyone saw it in the city."

Harry stilled. "Really?"

"Someone called in the car, said it was just sitting in the middle of the street." Murphy frowned and stared into her coffee. "There was blood on the sidewalk and the driver's side door was left open. They found a couple of guns in the back seat and fake ids in the glove compartment. There was also a cell phone and a syringe in the ditch."

"Hell's bells Murph," The wizard sat up. "Was someone killed?"

"No," Murphy looked a little hopeful. "But it looks like someone was abducted…and put up a hell of a fight. The toxicology report I snuck a peak at said the syringe was filled with a powerful sedative. There wasn't enough blood at the scene to confirm a death."

Harry blinked at her in surprise before sitting back and letting out a huff of disbelief. "Wow," he said.

"I checked with Mercy before I came too. Anthony is stable. He might come around sometime today they hope. Michael was there most of the night with Sanya." She noticed the carefully stacked files on the floor, those that had been lifted from Forthill's private office and the one Harry had been lugging around with his own investigation of Carthage. Murphy jerked her chin at it. "What did you turn up from the files?"

Harry told her. He started with the Seals and finished with the discovery of the Horsemen. He recounted the testimony of the River Pass priest, who claimed hunters arrived in their town and saved them from destroying each other. Murphy took the news in stride, her brows lifting in surprise as the wizard produced solid evidence of the Harvelle women working in tandem with the Winchesters.

"I hate to tell you Murph…" Harry said when he was done. "After last night, I was thinking of tracking down the Winchesters if they were still in town." He sighed and gulped down the last of his coffee. "Now it looks like there might be a problem with that."

Murphy nodded slowly.

"So…" she said after a long pause. "It really is…"

"Apocalypse Now? Yes." Harry said dryly.

Murphy's lip quirked in a very small, very weak smile. "That's not funny," she said. She hid her expression behind the rest of her coffee and toed the white evidence box across the floor to Harry. "Novak's file."

Harry flicked the coffee cup into the trash as he picked up the box and looked at it. He frowned for a moment and set it back down.

"Something wrong?" Murphy asked.

"I'm worried," the wizard admitted. "Novak was in the vicinity of the rising of a Horseman. I…I would rather hand this off to the Council and let them deal with it." He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "Why am I always the one saving the world?"

Murphy watched him carefully for a minute, seeing the actual fear that loomed over the wizard as he stared down at the box. His eyes drifted to the files and then back to the box. The officer slid down the couch and reached out with her hand to take a hold of his and give it a squeeze.

"No one is going to blame you for asking for help." She said. "You don't need to always save the world. And you don't always have to do it alone, Harry. I will not think less of you if you let this one go. You have done more than enough in the last decade than most people will ever do in their lifetime."

Harry looked at her hand holding is and bit his lip. He squeezed back.

"But…I can't sit here and do nothing," he replied. "And…whatever was in Carthage…whatever brought the hellhounds…is here now." Harry glanced up at her. "This is our home. All of our friends are here. Their lives are in danger."

Karrin reached out with her other hand and placed it gently over both of theirs. "I took an oath to protect the lives of the people in this city. You know that I'm going to stay and I'm going to fight it."

"I'm not going to let you do it alone, Karrin." Harry whispered. "Nobody should confront this alone."

"Then let's try to stop it before more people die," Murphy said. "Together."

Harry nodded slowly at her, holding her hand tight. He started to say something more when he stopped himself. A long time ago, there was the possibility…that maybe there was something more between the two of them than just being friends. And maybe it was still there. Having just been confronted with the possible end of the known world, the wizard wondered if he shouldn't just take the initiative that he had refused to before now. Maybe that door wasn't closed all the way. Maybe—

"You give me the 'end of the world' speech, and so help me I will shoot you." Murphy announced. She had the look of someone in deep thought, but a faint smile touched her lips. There was no humor in her eyes though. In that one instant, they had both had the same thought.

Harry managed a nervous chuckle. He pulled Murphy's hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "Okay." He finally let go of her hand and started to reach for the box.

It took all of Harry's willpower to let go.

* * *

The chances of the tracking spell actually working were nil to none.

But somehow it caught and the little compass with a bit of Novak's hair taped to it spun wildly for a moment and then pointed to the south. Murphy called Sanya and the Knight joined them at Michael's house, leaving in the Sergeant's Saturn for parts unknown according to the compass.

They ended up on the fringes of Hyde Park, just off the grounds of the University of Chicago. Harry decided, since they were on the territory of the Alphas, the college's very own werewolf pack that protected area from supernatural threats, to call in to William and Georgia Borden and have them join in the search. Unlike the typical werewolf, the Alphas were in fact humans who could transform their physical bodies with an incantation into that of large wolves and still retain their human consciousness.

Will accepted the challenge and met them at the entrance to the skating rink. He came jogging across the college's open quad in his winter's best, a black down coat that added more bulk to his already toned body. His rich brown hair was left to defend itself though.

"Murphy said we're looking for a guy?" Will said, not even short of breath from the great distance he took to reach them from his apartment on the other side of campus.

"Thought you might want in on it." Harry said, holding the compass. It was pointing past the entrance of the ice rink. Throngs of people milled about, both on and off the ice. With the extended holiday weekend, whole families were out in the November morning, enjoying each other's company.

A flicker of pain coursed through Harry, who suddenly remembered that only the night before he had discovered the End of Days was in full swing.

And everyone, except for them, were unaware of it.

"Here's his picture." Murphy held up a photograph that had been found in the evidence box. "His name is James Novak."

Will nodded as he took a good long look at the image. "This got anything to do with the hunters I heard about being in town?" he asked.

"I don't know," Harry replied. "But it's got everything to do with Carthage."

The werewolf snapped out of his study of the picture. If he had shown any concern about a couple of guys that would probably shoot him on sight, it paled in comparison to the carefully schooled focus that the young man now bore.

Harry tuned and started in the direction pointed on the compass. Murphy and Will broke off and started walking several feet away, sweeping through the crowd of parents and children. They entered the Warming House and continued to move briskly towards the ice rink.

Outside again, the ice was covered in a spinning circle of people. They talked and laughed, children squealed in excitement. The scraping of blades against ice was sharp against the cold air over the park.

Harry looked down at his compass and followed it to the southwest, along the edges of the rink. The wizard had an advantage over many of the people milling about. He stood nearly six and half feet tall and could see easily over the heads of the crowd. Harry looked up and started scanning the crowd as he moved forward, hoping to see Novak before he walked right into the guy.

Standing on the fringes of the crowd looking in towards the rinks, stood a man in a long tan colored trench coat, his eyes focused on the skaters. His expression was distant and yet serene. His overall appearance was unkempt and Harry found it slightly disconcerting that the man wore so little in the face of the chilly November air.

Sanya leaned over him, adjusting the strap of the plastic tubing that held his sword. "Harry, do you see him?"

"Yeah," Harry looked down at his compass and up again. "Yeah, I think I do." He swallowed and pocketed the compass as Murphy and Will came over to join them.

"What do you want to do?" Murphy asked, adjusted her coat in case she needed to reach for her gun tucked into a shoulder holster. Will had apparently been informed of the situation at hand, because he looked incredibly grave. He was fixing his own coat, read to peel it off and transform at a moment's notice should he have to.

Harry held out his hand to stop them. "Stay here. If this goes south, Murphy, these people are going to need you."

The officer started to open her mouth in protest when Will took her by the arm. He was going to standby with her without an argument.

The wizard motioned to Sanya and the two started through the masses for the man in the coat. They made their way towards the edge, coming from behind where the man would be least likely to see them. Harry approached casually, taking in the profile of the man as they neared and was more than certain that this haggard guy in a suit was the one they were looking for. He had wind swept jet-black hair that matched the strands Harry had taped to the compass and a day's growth of stubble along his jaw.

Harry started to reach out and touch the man's shoulder, but his hand and his keen wizard sense realized a moment too late that there was something between the two of them that was protruding out of James Novak's back.

The air shifted and that feel of…something slammed into Harry, passing right through him. He realized a second too late that Novak had been standing absolutely still, his body free of the subtle shifts of weight and twitches. And now he moved with an almost perfect inhuman grace, spinning around. The air around him in about a six foot radius moved with him as he turned.

_There is something on his back that I can't see! _Harry thought. The air around them suddenly tasted and smelled like the ozone given off in lightning strikes and the hair on the back of the wizard's neck stood on end.

The last warning Harry got that Novak wasn't entirely human was when he pinned two starting blue eyes on his own.

Normal humans didn't look one another in the eye.

And it took all of a fraction of a second for the wizard and the man in front of him to fall into a soulgaze.

* * *

Wizards are gifted with the unique ability to see someone's soul. It was also a two way street, so the other person, wizard or not, could also do the same to Harry. And what ever you saw in a soulgaze, much like with the Sight, would stay with you forever, good or bad.

He had not been prepared at all for a soulgaze. So when Harry literally fell into it, everything in the physical world fell away. The last thing he wanted to do was to see into the soul of a guy that was probably not in anyway human and had been at the epicenter of Carthage. Harry braced himself for the worse…

And found himself standing in the entryway of a modest home.

Harry saw his shadow stretch out in front of him on the hardwood floors. He turned and glanced over his shoulder at the door. The wizard winced at the painfully bright light that seemed to filter through the glass. Noise, like the sound of a roaring wind was buffered by the door but there was nothing else to see beyond it. He stepped away from the door and put it to his back, blinking the spots out of his astral vision. The wizard came to the intersection of a dinning room to his left and a living room to his right. More of that painful light streamed in through the windows, but it was muted by the shades.

Stairs lead up to a second story and the hallway Harry stood in headed towards the back of the house. He walked carefully forward, taking a moment to look at a picture he found on the wall of a family. There was a little girl and a woman, both blondes, standing with Novak, who looked better cared for and not as rugged. A happy family.

He heard the wood floors creak. Harry froze and watched as someone stepped through the end of the hall, which looked like it had another intersection beyond the stairs. Light cascaded into the hall from them and Harry swore he almost missed the form of a man dressed in a black suit, passing between the rooms.

Harry stepped forward, shielding his eyes from the light as he turned into the room that he had seen the man go. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust, but he found himself standing in a home office. The man in the suit was Novak, clean shaven, hair brushed, and wearing a black suit with a blue tie. The trench coat that he had been wearing in the physical world was missing.

He was standing at the desk, holding a picture frame he had lifted off it's surface and trailing a finger over the image of what was probably his wife and daughter.

"James Novak?" Harry called out tentatively.

Novak flinched as if he wasn't sure someone was actually speaking to him. Harry called out again and the man turned, looking up from the picture in his hands. Their eyes met and this time there was no soulgaze.

James Novak looked him over once, he was surprised at first and then confused. "What are you doing here?" He asked, setting the picture back on the desk, turning it away from Harry to see the images.

"Um…it was an accident. You looked me in the eye and started a soulgaze. I'll be gone in a minute." Harry said, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture.

James's hand was coming round the end of an envelope opener. "You're not a demon?" He asked, his expression hardening.

"Just a regular guy."

"You shouldn't be here." James said, relaxing his hold on the letter opener. "If you're a psychic, you should leave before you see him."

Harry felt a bolt of nervousness run through him. "You're not alone in here, are you James…" The last time he had been in a soulgaze with someone with more than one tenant at home, the wizard had been in for a whole new world of ugliness.

"He burned out the eyes of the last one," James announced, his voice tinged with concern. "You really should leave before he does the same to you."

Harry glanced around the room again, this time trying to make sense of what he was seeing. This was some construct inside of Novak's soul, a very elaborate one. Harry didn't need to stretch the realm of possibilities that this was probably the man's very own home.

Something was holding James Novak a prisoner in his own mind and soul.

There was a sinking sensation in the pit of the wizard's stomach. He took a step back from James.

"Who else is here?" Harry asked. "Is there something holding you against your will?"

James stared at him, his expression turning into resolve. "I gave him permission to be here." He said, resolute. There was a look of sorrow in his eyes, but a firm determination there.

_Oh crap._ Harry thought. He turned to exit the room, figuring that maybe if he opened the front door, he could exit this soulgaze as fast as he could. He turned into the hallway and faced the blinding light spilling through the oval window of the door…

And came face to face with an exact duplicate of James, the one he had seen in the park with the trench coat. There was the ghost of what looked like wings coming out of his back, translucent and shadowy.

Instead of the brilliant blue eyes though, there was bright silvery light…and a glowing sigil looming over the metaphysical third eye at the center of his forehead in angelic script.

"Denarian!" Harry whispered in horror.

The second James lurched back as if he had been physically struck by Harry's words. He was shocked and suddenly appalled by the declaration. But that only lasted a moment; because the doppelganger was on him in a flash, hand around his throat and undeniable fury twisting across his stolen face.

Harry's back collided against the wall at the end the hall.

The original James appeared out of his office, panicked. "Castiel! NO!"

The Denarian held tight, glowing eyes narrowed in fury at Harry. They stared at each other for a moment and then the fallen angel opened his mouth and spoke. It came out as an ear splitting ring that made Harry shudder to core of his very being.

**LEAVE!**

Harry felt the wall behind him go as he was flung out of Jimmy's soul and back into his own body.

Just in time to hear people screaming.


	11. Chapter 11

AN: This whole chapter is probably one of my personal favorites. Thank you for reading and reviewing!

* * *

Chapter 11

Harry found himself on his back, in the snow. He blinked back into the world and saw the image of Sanya looming over him, his mouth moving but no words coming out. He heard instead muted rumbles, odd twisting noises. The ground under him seemed to quake.

"…arry…" Sanya yelled, his voice coming to the wizard now. "Harry! HARRY GET UP!"

Dresden groaned, reaching up to his ringing ears and finding his hands coming away wet. He frowned and held up his fingers, coated in thick blood.

"HARRY!" Murphy yelled amid the screaming of panicked civilians. She appeared over him next, her cell phone pressed against her ear. "Yes. I don't know," She said to the phone, apparently someone was on the other end talking to her. "What did Anthony say?"

Sanya reached down and grabbed Harry's arm, sitting him up. Now in some state of vertical, the wizard could see people fleeing the park in a mad panic. The frightened mob scattered to the streets and there were horns and sirens wailing in the distance. He looked around himself and noticed that he was fifteen feet from where he had been standing before the soulgaze…and that the Denarian possessing James Novak was nowhere to be seen.

"Where…" Harry croaked. "Where…did he go?"

"He vanished," the Russian announced, his sword in hand. "He became angry and threw you away from him without touching you."

The wizard winced, his ears still ringing. "It was a Denarian," he said.

Sanya's eyes widen. "What was he doing here?"

"I don't know." Harry pushed himself up, staggering to his feet. Murphy clicked her phone shut and looked at the two of them, her eyes wide. "What is it?" Harry asked. "Because I've got enough problems already."

"It wasn't the Denarians that attacked Anthony," Murphy announced. "It was a demon."

"Where is Will?"

Murphy shook her head and surveyed the chaos, not about to jump into the fray. "I don't know. He got really tense and was gone before I could ask him what was wrong. The was when the whole crowd panicked."

Amid the screaming, the horns blaring on the streets, and the ringing in his ears, a wolf howled. From the remnants of the mob, those who had come off the ice and just torn their skates right off their feet to run, a large brown wolf bounded towards them.

In his wake came a woman, walking calming through the hastily deserted park. She had dark eyes and long softly curled dark hair with an almost porcelain complexion. She was dressed in tight jeans and boots, with a leather coat over top of a rich purple top. She walked with a casual sway, fingers hooked into the belt loops at her hips. There was no way she was warm in the clothing that she wore and it was apparent that she really didn't care.

The woman came to a stop on the edge of the sidewalk, one thin brow carefully arched as she looked at the werewolf and the few people who hadn't fled the park. Harry slipped his hand into his coat and reached for his blasting rod. Will braced himself in the snow and growled, low and angry at her.

"What a cute doggie." The woman said with a smirk. "He yours?"

Harry looked between Sanya and Murphy. "He doesn't like you very much."

"Oh." She laughed. A sound that was cold and harsh in the November air. "He's just upset I brought my own to play."

Murphy started to reach into her coat. "Harry...she doesn't have any dogs." She hissed.

That sinking feeling came back into the wizard's gut. Harry took a deep breath and focused on opening his third eye, against his better judgment. He opened his Sight and looked again, taking both the physical world and the supernatural one.

Murphy and Sanya both stood on either side of him in their true forms, the sergeant an Amazon warrior dressed in a bloodied and dirty white and blue tunic. Her gun was a sword tucked under one arm and her eyes glowed a brilliant blue. Sanya wore a crown of his ancestor's on top of his head, and his winter clothes were replaced with the white and red tunic of a templar Knight. His sword, _Esperacchius_, glowed so bright that it was painful to look at. So Harry focused his attention on the woman in front of him.

Before him though, the park was painted in the residue of fear from the frightened civilians. It bathed the snow yellow and orange were people had tread in their panic to flee. The woman standing amid the stain was terrible to look at, with soulless black eyes, twisted and distorted features, and horns rising from her forehead to curve back and around her jagged ears.

And standing around her were three massive beasts with glowing red eyes, sharp spinney black fur, and wicked sharp claws. Their mouths were pulled back into a snarl, exposing wicked white teeth and their breath blew out a hot black mist that would probably reek of sulfur should one be close enough to smell.

These beasts were also half the size of Murphy's Saturn.

"Hellhounds!" Harry barely breathed.

"I can't see anything Harry!" Murphy announced, pointing her gun in front of her.

"Trust me Karrin, you don't want to." Harry swallowed thickly. He was almost certain that Will couldn't see them, but he was probably more than enough aware that these beasts had invaded his territory.

The demon possessing the young woman smirked at him. "Take the wizard alive. Kill the rest."

"Run!" Harry ordered, watching as the three hellhounds set foot onto the tinted snow, their paws sinking into it and taking the shape of paw prints. "Sanya! Take Karrin and run!"

"These things killed two people in my city Harry! I am not leaving!" Murphy announced. "You and I swore we'd handle this together!"

Harry spun on her, going for the sword illusion that was in reality her gun. But he was too late. Murphy, now able to see where these monsters were, trained her gun on the nearest one and fired. Black blood spurt out from a wound and fell over the back of beast, giving it some shape.

And that was all it took.

The hounds lunged at them. Sanya stepped around Harry, grabbing Murphy by the arm and dragging her in his retreat. Will made for the one that had been wounded, leaping for the bloody mark on the back of the beast and sinking his teeth into the hounds flesh. Harry turned and bolted in the other direction of his retreating friends, hoping to draw two of the beasts away from the others.

"Will! GO!" Harry roared, bringing his blasting rod up and pointing it the one behind him. "_Feugo!_" The wizard cried out and a lance of fire shot from its tip, cutting through the snow and into the hellhound's path.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Will make a mad dash after the hellhound chasing Murphy and Sanya. The wounded one he had been scrapping with was now coming for weaker prey with no teeth.

The lance of fire struck the first hound on his tail and it sent the monster into the snow. But it hadn't killed it. The hound shuddered with the effect of the stun and got back up as its partner caught up.

_Use fire to kill the monster from Hell, Harry. _The wizard mentally kicked himself as he turned to put more distance between him and the beasts. _Stupid, stupid idea._

Realizing there was no way he was going to out run the hellhounds, he shook out his shield bracelet around his wrist and began to pour a little of his will into it. He spun around on the already wounded hellhound and raised his left fist; shield convalescing into place and exposing three rings around his fingers. They stored kinetic energy from when his hand swung back and forth at his side, holding it in these rings to be released at a moment's notice.

He hadn't use either of those rings since earlier in the summer. Months of untapped energy were stored in them. Enough to probably take a Mac truck off its wheels.

Harry focused on the ring around his index finger and released it.

The blast released from the ring had been aimed low and in the path of the hellhound. It dug a furrow through the snow, sending white chucks and flakes sailing through the air as the force of energy stuck the beast in a glancing blow. But it hit at just the right angle to catch the hound and break it's neck along with a leg and several ribs. Inertia carried the carcass through the air and it slid to a stop in the snow just feet away from the wizard.

The other hound had recovered though and barreled over its dead pack mate. It lunged, giving Harry no time to re-aim and fire off another shot. He swung around with his blasting rod and readied to blast the hell spawn back with a bolt of wind.

He misjudged his timing and the hellhound was on him. It sent the wizard flying into the snow, landing on his chest. The blasting rod slipped from Harry's fingers and fell away. Long sharp claws dug into the front of his sweater and sank into the skin and the other paw landed with a punishing blow to his left arm. With a cruel twist, the hound dislocated it entirely from its socket.

Harry screamed in white-hot pain, losing all feeling down that arm. His mind grinded to a stop and the will he had been pouring into his shield bracelet winked out. The wizard was too busy trying to form coherent thoughts to try and muster his will back up.

The hellhound leaned in low and menacing, puffing putrid sulfur smelling hot breath into Harry's face. The wizard turned away, bracing himself for having his throat ripped out.

But the killing blow never came. The hound remained standing on his chest and arm, pinning him into a Harry shaped mold in a foot of snow.

Harry dared to crack open an eye, looking up at the blood red gaze of the hound. It growled deep and low in its chest at him.

"I should let him tear your head off for killing his mate." The demon said, having no problem reaching out to the wiry, bristled fur of the hellhound and stroking it with affection. "Who is mommy's good boy?" She cooed at the growling hell beast. The demon leaned over the hellhound and smiled at Harry. "You know, I heard you were a hard man to get a hold of. I have to say Harry, I'm a little let down. I was looking for a challenge."

Harry groaned at the sheering pain in his shoulder and the weight on his chest. He could barely breathe. In the distance he heard the report of gunfire.

His friends were in trouble.

Harry looked up at the demon, watching her stoke her growling beast. "What…do you want?" He rasped.

The demon smiled at him. "Oh silly wizard, I've come for the swords."

Harry looked at the hellhound. "You want…to take them out of play…" He took another breath. "So that the Knights don't kill your Horsemen."

The demon frowned. "True. But you really can't stop Death. Or War." She said. "No…I've come to take them before someone gets it in their thick skulls to use them against my Father."

Harry winced as the hound shifted its wait, settling harder on his chest and arm.

"Careful pet, don't want to damn such pretty meat." The demon cooed to the hellhound. It rumbled in return.

"Lady…" Harry hissed. "I'm so not your type." He looked up and tried for focus on the image of the young woman that the demon was actually riding. From his vantage point with the Sight, he could see her beneath the surface. There was some consciousness there…but Harry was sure from the dead look in the eyes of the original host…the soul that had been placed inside of it had long since left. Her belly had suffered a terrible burn recently and it was still healing…but the wound was blackened and had spider-like veins coming off it. The demon was the only thing keeping this poor dead woman's body together now and alive.

"See something you like?" The demon asked, aware that Harry was looking at her with his Sight.

"Yeah…actually." Harry wheezed. "Was just wondering what your name was demon bitch." He hissed a little as the hound's claws dug deeper into his chest.

The demon smiled, giving him a look at both hers and the host's teeth. "You think I'd be stupid enough to tell you that, Wizard?"

Harry hissed. "What, worried I'd unmake you for nearly killing Anthony?"

"Needed something to draw you out into the open." The demon laughed. "And if you want to call me anything…a couple of hunters call me Meg."

The wizard quirked an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Small world. I know a few."

"Do you now?" Meg's smile brightened.

"Yeah." Harry chuckled hoarsely. "So…what's a demon…doing the dirty work of a Denarian?"

Meg sighed wistfully and looked out across the abandoned park. "Oh, I don't like to brag…but Father's not to happy its taken Nicky the last millennia or two to kill off the Knights. So he sent me. I know how to get things done, as you can see." She patted the huge beast. "But as much as I'd like to chat, I'd really like to hurry along and get those swords out from behind your wards."

"Oh yeah." Harry managed a grin. "Wouldn't get to close to those, blow you back to Hell. And your little dog too."

"You're funny." Meg's tone tensed. "I wonder how funny you are going to think you are after I let Toto here rip your guts out."

"Sweetheart," Harry sighed. "I'm the life of the party." And he lifted right hand and slapped it against the chest of the Hellhound. The wizard mustered together his will and grabbed for a bit of Soulfire for some kick and bellowed, "_FEUGO!_"

Fire, unfocused without the blasting rod, shot through the beast in a bolt as big around as Harry was himself at the waist. The difference between this fire and the first was that it's edges swirled with a bit of silvery light, the fire of creation itself and drawn from the depths of Harry's own soul.

And it was just enough to blow out the heart of the beast.

Meg lurched back as the hellhound toppled off of Harry. The wizard pointed his open hand at her. He steadied his will and yelled "_Ventas Serrvitas!_"

A column of wind struck the demon and sent her flying. She landed several meters away in the snow, body reacting to the landing as if it were a rag doll. She recovered after a moment and looked up to see the wizard still at the ready.

That was all it took for the demon to bolt. Her eyes turned completely black on her host, and with inhuman speed she retreated, making a clean break beyond the trees lining the edges of the park and was gone.

Harry fell back into the snow for a moment and groaned. As he did the Sight went with his vision and the wizard took a moment to gulp down lung fulls of breath. His gray sweater was torn and stained red from the blood weeping out of the five precise puncture points of the hellhounds claws. His left arm hung utterly useless at his side.

_I've just killed two hellhounds. _Harry thought for a moment.

As Harry became aware of the silence, he opened his eyes. He remembered there had been a third hound. The gunfire in the distance, the sound of animals fighting…

Murphy, Sanya, and Will.

Harry braced himself, sitting up with his good hand and scrambling to get to his feet. He crawled out from under the legs still on him from the dead hound and picked up his blasting rod out of the snow.

He staggered across the open field in the direction he had seen everyone go. The silence that was stretching in the cold November air was starting to scare him. It was gradually being filled with the wailing sound of sirens and it only made Harry limp and stumble faster.

They had made it to the trees, crossing the narrow street that was completely devoid of people and traffic. The snow had given him an idea of where they had gone, but there were few traces on the pavement. Harry spun in a circle, clutching his arm to himself and feeling panic creeping in.

The street divided the park, leaving a small section of quiet fields and more trees between it and the main road. Harry decided to keep following the direction he had seen the trail. He came up onto the sidewalk and could see just through the line of trees were the snow had been disturbed again.

And steeped in blood.

"No!" Harry whispered, starting to will open his Sight and charging through the tree line.

On the other side, he found them.

In a sea of black and red tinted snow.

Sanya was lifted a clear three feet into the air, with nothing underneath him. _Esperacchius _was held tightly in front of him and coated in thick black blood. It was suck down in front of the Knight, buried into the invisible and solid mass under his legs. The back of his winter coat had been slashed right through, bleeding white insulation and exposing the scraped ceramic plating of his bullet proof vest. Bits of snow covered the shoulders and body of the hound, the only indication that it was even there.

Will, still in the shape of a large brown wolf, had his teeth sunk deeply into what Harry could only assume was probably the neck of the hellhound without using his Sight. The tension in Will's throat and chest was tight and more of the black blood seeped onto the snow covered ground around his mouth. The werewolf himself bore fresh wounds of his own, the fur around his neck stained red and a large gash had been ripped into his back.

And Murphy sat at the tree line, her gun trained on the space between them both. Her coat was wrapped tightly around her leg and a belt lashed it around her right thigh. Her knuckles were raw and she looked like she had taken a bad fall and scrapped her face. The knees and hem of jeans were dirtied and wet.

"It's dead." Sanya announced, taking the hilt of his saber in both hands and with a grunt, pulled it from the body of the beast. Will released what he held tightly in his teeth and stepped back with growl

Harry trudged slowly over to Murphy, watching lower her gun and let out a breath she had been holding. From the way the snow appeared, she had dragged herself to where she sat and managed to make her own tourniquet for whatever wounds that had been inflected.

Sanya peeled off his coat; since it was obvious Harry couldn't with his dislocated shoulder and draped it over the officer. He looked up at Harry.

"If you are alive, then the other hounds are dead, da?"

The wizard nodded, dropping to his knees into the snow next to Murphy.

"What about the demon?"

Harry shook his head. "She got away." He said.

"She wanted you alive." Murphy whispered, gingerly putting her gun away into its shoulder holster and touching a hand to her battle dressing. "What did she want from you?"

Harry nursed his dead arm to his chest and sighed. "She's come for the swords." He said, looking up at Sanya. "She said her Father sent her to get them."

Sanya's widen in surprise.

Murphy looked up, her gaze muddled with pain and the crash following the wake of adrenaline. Harry was starting to feel the effects of it himself now that the fighting was over.

"Father? As in her God? Isn't the God to any demon Lucifer?" she said quietly.

"Yeah," Harry confirmed, just as Will limped over to them and settled down into the cold snow to take the burn off his own injuries. "Yeah he is."


End file.
